EVERYDAY STORIES 


H. C. CRADOCK 




Class 

Book .Q ^4-3 

Copyright N° -Z£\ y 

CjH/vvI 2 . 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 

































EVERYDAY STORIES 









✓ 




















































Everyday Stories 


BY 

Mrs. H. C. CRADOCK 

Author of “Josephine and her Dolls,” etc. 



PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



Copyright, 1920, by 
Oeorge W. Jacobs & Company 


OCT 23 1920 ^ 

£ 


©Cl, A601019 


All rights reserved 
Printed in U. 8. A. 


Preface 

W ITH the hope that mothers in 
nurseries and teachers in school- 
rooms may be helped to amuse and 
instruct their little ones in a healthy way, 
these stories of the everyday doings of boys 
and girls are made available for them. 

They were written for a ‘ real little girl ’ who 
used to beg for them to be repeated. Then they 
were told to many other little girls — and boys 
too; and since it often happened that these chil- 
dren also would hear them again and again, the 
author was encouraged to believe that they 
would be welcomed by a larger public. 

She makes no apology for the amount of de- 
tail employed, nor for the narration of very 
trivial events, for it is just these that little chil- 
dren love. “ How old was he? ” “ Where did 

he live?” This is the kind of question most 
frequently put to the story-teller from an audi- 
ence composed of little children. Names of 
places are often purposely avoided in the book, 
as it is more effective to name familiar places, 
and the story-teller should insert suitable place- 
names to please her audience. 


Everyday Stories 

It will be found that most of the stories have 
a moral — indeed they were written with a dis- 
tinct end in view, and that end was twofold, 
namely, to give delight to the little girl, and to 
train her in habits of courtesy, gentleness, obedi- 
ence, etc. But the moral is never obtruded; the 
aim must necessarily be defeated if the child is 
made aware that he is being taught. The end 
must be gained by leading him to admire the 
characters most worthy of admiration in the 
stories. The desire to imitate will follow natur- 
ally. 


6 


Contents 

PAGE 

The Birthday Party 9 

Dressing Up 14 

A Visit to the Sea 20 

Peggy 27 

Roguey 32 

The Unhappy Doll 39 

Washing Day 43 

The Little Cousin from India 48 

George’s Birthday 54 

Keeping Shop 58 

The Hay-Field 63 

Cyril 68 

Spot 72 

The Picnic 77 

Christmas Presents .83 

Poor Charlie 88 

The New Baby 94 

The Snow-Man 101 

Feeding the Birds 106 

Lost no 

The Dolls’ Tea-Party 116 

Going Out to Tea 122 

The Picnic on the Sands 129 

The Kindergarten 135 


7 


Everyday Stories 

PAGE 

Mr. West-Wind 141 

Pussy . . 145 

Building with Bricks 150 

Helping Mother 155 

Punch 165 

Let’s Pretend 172 

The Stepping-Stones 179 

“I Can’t Wait” 189 

Blackberrying 196 

The Magic Pocket 203 

The Story of Three Dolls 209 

The Little Green Man 215 

The Fairy Tree 227 

The Primroses ........... 236 


8 


The Birthday Party 

I T was Alice’s birthday. She was six years 
old. Her mother had promised her that she 
should have a party. She had been looking 
forward to this party for weeks, and now at last 
the day had come. Ten children had been in- 
vited, six girls and four boys. Alice had writ- 
ten all the letters herself asking them to come. 
She had written them in printing letters, as 
she could do those more neatly than the other 
sort. This is what she wrote : PLEASE WILL YOU 
COME TO MY BIRTHDAY PARTY ON WEDNESDAY 
DECEMBER THE 9TH AT FOUR O’CLOCK. ALICE 
GREGORY. 

She had not written all the letters on one day; 
they would have taken far too much time. She 
had done one every day for the last ten days. 
Her mother had told her how to spell the words. 
She folded the little notes neatly and put them 
into envelopes. Her mother addressed them. 
Then she stamped the envelopes and posted them 
herself. Of course these notes were sent off be- 
fore the day of the party. Alice received ten 
letters back again, thanking her for her invita- 
tion, and all the children hoped to be able to 
come. 

Well, the day had come at last. Alice felt 
almost grown-up now that she was six. She 
9 


Everyday Stories 

looked at herself in the glass to see if she was any 
taller, but she could not see any great change. 

“I think I must surely be bigger,” she thought; 
“though I don’t look so.” 

In the afternoon she helped her mother pre- 
pare the tea-table. They put some flowers — yel- 
low chrysanthemums — in the middle of the table, 
and then they arranged the plates of cakes and 
bread and butter in order. They were to use 
a very pretty set of tea things which were 
generally kept locked up in a cupboard — white, 
with little rosebuds on them. The table looked 
so nice when it was ready. 

“Now you must go and put on your party 
frock,” said Mother. 

So Alice went upstairs and got ready. She 
washed herself; then she brushed her hair 
(Mother had to tie it up for her) ; then she put 
on her white frock, and Mother tied her sash. 

“Oh, how silly I am!” she said. “I ought to 
have changed my shoes first of all. They will 
make my hands dirty now.” 

“Yes, you certainly ought,” said Mother. 

Alice sat down and changed her shoes. They 
did make her hands just a little dirty. 

“I needn’t wash them again, need I, Mother? 
They are only a tiny bit dirty.” 

“Oh, but fancy having a nice clean frock, and 
a clean face and neat hair, and soiled hands!” 
said Mother. 


IO 


The Birthday Party 

“I think I will wash them,” said Alice. 

“Yes, I should,” said Mother. 

The dirty hands were soon made clean again, 
and Mother and Alice went down together. 

Soon they heard a ring at the front door bell ; 
then another, and then another, and at last all the 
ten guests had arrived. Their names were 
Harry, Arthur, Charlie, Martin, Katie, Edith, 
Gracie, Rachel, Aline, and Una. The eldest 
was Harry, who was ten years old, and the 
youngest Una, who was three. 

After they had all taken their things off, 
Mother said: “Alice, I think you had better 
keep little Una near you, as she is such a very 
little girl.” Una was a fat little thing. She 
was not at all shy. She let Alice take hold of 
her hand, and lead her into the dining-room for 
tea. 

“Me dot a noo fock on,” she said. 

“It is a pretty one,” said Alice. “How old 
are you, Una?” 

But Una did not know how old she was, and 
all she said was, “Me dot a noo fock on.” 

“Yes, I know,” said Alice, laughing. 

Then they all sat down to tea. One of the 
children who had come to the party was lame. 
He had to walk with crutches. He sat in the 
big arm-chair near Alice’s mother. It was 
Martin who was lame. 

The only accident that happened was the 

ii 


Everyday Stories 

spilling of little Una’s milk. Alice’s mother 
had given her a mug instead of one of the 
rosebud cups. She managed very well till 
nearly the end of the meal, and then, when she 
was helping herself to bread and butter, she 
knocked the mug over. Fortunately there was 
only very little milk in it or there would have 
been a great mess. 

“It not spoilt my noo fock,” said Una. 

“No, that is a good thing,” said Alice. “It 
has nearly all gone on to a plate.” 

After tea they all went up into the nursery to 
have games. The nursery was a large one, and 
there was not much furniture in it, so there was 
plenty of room. 

“Now who is going to choose the first game?” 
said Mother. 

“Me! Me!” cried several voices at once. 

The little girl whose name was Katie said : “I 
think we ought to let Alice choose first, because 
it is her birthday.” 

“But I don’t think Alice would like to choose,” 
said her mother, “because you see all of you are 
her guests, and guests always choose first.” 

“I think Martin ought to choose first,” said 
Alice. 

“Yes, let Martin choose,” said Edith. 

“What made you say, ‘Let Martin choose’?” 
asked Katie. 

“Well, you see, he is lame,” whispered Alice, 

12 


The Birthday Party 

“and so I think we ought to be extra kind to 
him.” 

So Martin chose the game. He decided on 
“Here we go round the Mulberry Bush.” The 
children (all except Martin, who watched) 
joined hands and sang the words of the song, and 
pretended to wash their faces and their hands 
and all the rest of it. When they sang, “This is 
the way we go to sleep,” they sang very softly, 
just as if they were really getting sleepy. 

Una chose the next game. The others said she 
might as she was the youngest. She chose “Ring- 
a-Round-a-Rosy.” It was the only game she 
knew. 

After that they had “Going to Jerusalem,” 
“London Bridge is Falling Down,” “Drop the 
Handkerchief,” and “Blind Man’s Buff.” 

By that time it was seven o’clock and time for 
the party to come to an end. The front door bell 
kept ringing, and mothers and nurses and big sis- 
ters came to fetch the children home. It was 
really past Una’s bed-time. She generally went 
at six. 

When Alice’s mother came to tuck her up and 
to say good-night, Alice said : “Thank you for 
letting me have a party, Mother. I have en- 
joyed it.” 


13 


Dressing Up 


NCE upon a time on a winter afternoon 



two little children sat talking near the 


nursery fire. Nurse was downstairs 
ironing, and she had told them to amuse them- 
selves till she came back. They were consider- 
ing what game they should play next. A little 
dog sat on the hearthrug, and he kept looking up 
at them, as much as to say: “You must let me 
play with you, whatever it is.” 

He was the dearest little dog, with shaggy hair 
and bright eyes. His name was “Tip.” 

“Whatever shall we do all this long afternoon, 
Nina?” said Maurice. 

“Oh, there is plenty to do; the question is, 
what shall we do first?” 

“I know,” said Nina; “let’s play at dressing 
up. I’ll go and ask Mother if we may have 
Father’s old tall hat, and a shawl and things. 
Don’t you think that would be a good game?” 

“I think dressing up is a girl’s game,” said 
Maurice. “It isn’t much fun for boys.” 

“But we could make it a sort of boy’s dressing- 
up game, you know.” 

“How?” 

“I mean we could pretend to have a man in the 
game. You could be a doctor or a policeman. 
That would do for a boy’s game.” 


14 


Dressing Up 

“All right. But I shall be a coachman, I 
think, and take you for drives. You can drive 
and pay calls. I shall make the horses very 
frisky, though, so you had better look out, be- 
cause there might be a carriage accident like 
Auntie had.” 

“Yes ; that would be fun !” 

So Nina went and asked her mother for some 
dressing-up things, and she came back to the 
nursery laden with clothes. 

She had a shawl, a tall hat, an umbrella, a 
card-case for her visiting cards, a pair of gloves, 
and a bonnet. 

“Hurrah!” shouted Maurice, when she laid all 
her things down on the table. Tip got up and 
wagged his tail, thinking they were all going out 
for a walk. 

“Oh, poor old Tip, did you think we were go- 
ing out then?” said Maurice, patting him. 
“Well, so we are, old man. We are going to 
pay calls, at least Nina is, and you can follow the 
carriage, and go into some of the houses with her, 
and perhaps have some biscuits from the tea- 
table. They always have tea at calls, you know.” 

“Tell him it’s not really, only pretend calls, 
Maurice,” said Nina, “or he’ll be disappointed.” 

“Oh, he understands all right, or he will in a 
minute, when we begin.” 

Then Nina began dressing up. She put on 
the bonnet in front of a little looking-glass which 
is 


Everyday Stories 

hung on the wall. It was an old one of her 
mother’s and of course much too big for her. 
It would tilt on one side too. She looked the 
most comical little figure when she had it on. 
For a minute or two the two children could do 
nothing but laugh. And when Nina put the 
shawl on she looked funnier than ever. 

“Oh, Nina, I never did see such an object. I 
shall die of laughing,” said Maurice. 

Then he put on the tall hat, which was also, of 
course, much too big, and he looked almost as 
funny as Nina. 

“I say, Nina, you have only brought one pair 
of gloves, and I want gloves as well as you; a 
coachman wears gloves.” 

“You must pretend you have them,” said 
Nina. 

“All right; you shall have the gloves.” 

Then they turned a chair upside down to make 
the carriage, and they had to pretend a good deal 
about the horses, for their toy horse was broken. 
They got some string for reins, and Maurice sat 
in front of the carriage and put the string round 
his feet, which stuck straight out in front of him, 
and pretended each foot was a horse. He had 
a real whip. 

“Now, then, steady, my beauties!” he said to 
the horses, as they began to prance about. 

“Wait a minute till I get my gloves on,” said 
Nina. Then Nina settled herself into her car- 

16 


Dressing Up 

riage. She leaned back, pretending that the 
cushions were very soft and comfortable. All 
went very well for a minute, when suddenly she 
heard the coachman say: “Oh, my hat!” 

The carriage was stopped with a jerk, and the 
coachman jumped from his seat He came to 
the carriage window, and explained that the 
wind had blown his hat off. 

“I am exceedingly sorry, ma’am,” he said, 
“but the wind has carried my hat to the other 
side of the road, and I daren’t leave these frisky 
horses a minute.” 

“Well, get some boy to fetch your hat for you.” 

A boy picked up the hat, and handed it to the 
coachman. He mounted his high seat, and off 
they went once more. 

At this moment Tip, who thought that he was 
being altogether forgotten, left his place behind 
the carriage and calmly went and lay down again 
on the hearthrug. However, he soon jumped 
up again, for Maurice pretended that the horses 
were running away. There was a great commo- 
tion; the carriage was upset, and there lay Nina 
on the floor. 

“Pretend that your leg is broken,” said Maur- 
ice. 

“No, it’s my arm; it’s broken in two places,” 
said Nina. 

“Oh, ma’am, I am indeed sorry that this has 
happened,” said the coachman, “but the horses 

1 7 


Everyday Stories 

were so restive there was no holding them in.” 

“I see you have got them quiet again,” said his 
mistress. “Which is the more frisky?” 

“This one,” said the coachman. (Here 
Maurice pointed to his right foot, which began 
kicking about again.) 

“I think I will walk home,” said his mistress. 
“You can drive the carriage home by yourself.” 

“But how about your broken arm?” 

Nina had really forgotten about her arm for 
the minute, but on being reminded of it she said: 
“Oh, fortunately I am going to pay a call at Dr. 
Brown’s house, so he will be able to see to it.” 

Here Maurice said: “Stop pretending for a 
minute, Nina, because I’m tired of being a 
coachman. I’m going to be the doctor seeing to 
your arm, but I want to go out of the room for a 
minute to fetch something.” 

Maurice then ran to the kitchen, and asked 
Cook, who wore spectacles, to lend them to him, 
“just for five minutes.” 

Cook did, and then Maurice went back to the 
nursery again. He made the same hat do, but 
the spectacles so altered his appearance that he 
really looked quite different from the coach- 
man. 

Nina then pretended to ring the bell at the 
doctor’s house, and a maid answered the door. 

“Is Mrs. Brown at home?” asked Nina. 

The maid said she was, and Nina was shown 

18 


Dressing Up 

in. She told Mrs. Brown about the broken arm, 
and Mrs. Brown took her to the doctor’s office. 

Doctor Brown got up politely from his chair 
and said : “How do you do?” 

“Quite well, thank you, except for a broken 
arm.” 

“Dear, dear,” said the doctor, “this is very se- 
rious; I must put it in splints for you.” 

The arm was put in splints. Doctor Brown 
said his patient was a very brave lady. 

“ I fear I must have hurt you,” said the doctor. 

“Yes, you did hurt, but never mind, I’m sure 
you couldn’t help it,” said Nina politely. 

“No, I was as gentle as I could be,” said the 
doctor. 

“Now,” said Nina, “I must go back to your 
drawing-room and finish paying my call.” 

She was just going to pretend to talk to Mrs. 
Brown and to have tea, when Nurse came back 
to the nursery, bringing in the supper, so the 
dressing up game was over for that day. 

“Oh, dear, how quickly the afternoon has 
gone!” said Maurice. “I have only been two 
men, a doctor and a coachman.” 

“And I have only been one lady all the time,” 
said Nina. 

As for Tip, he didn’t think much of dressing 
up; he had curled himself up again on the 
hearthrug in front of the nursery fire and was 
already fast asleep. 


19 


A Visit to the Sea 

O NCE upon a time there was a little girl 
whose name was Nora. She lived with 
her father and mother in the country, 
and their house stood in a beautiful park. Nora 
was five. She had no brothers or sisters. Her 
chief friends were dolls. The doll she liked best 
was called May, and had big blue eyes and 
golden hair. I must tell you more about these 
dolls another day; to-day I am going to tell you 
about a great treat which Nora had. 

One evening, when she was in the drawing- 
room with her mother just before bed-time, 
Father came in and said : “Does Nora know the 
secret?” 

“No, not yet,” said Mother. 

“What is the secret?” asked Nora. 

“Well, I think we might tell her now,” said 
Father. 

And then they told Nora that she and Nurse 
were going to a beautiful place by the sea, and 
that she would be able to dig on the sands, and 
have donkey rides. Nora was pleased; she was 
so delighted she hardly knew how to thank her 
father and mother enough. 

20 


A Visit to the Sea 

At last she said: “Oh, how lovely it will be! 
When are we going — to-morrow?” 

“No, not to-morrow,” answered Mother; “the 
day after to-morrow.” 

“Does Nurse know?” 

“Yes, Nurse knows.” 

“Has she packed my things yet?” 

“No; but she will to-morrow.” 

“Can we take May?” 

“Yes, you can take May.” 

Then, as Nora saw that her mother was go- 
ing to write some letters, she stopped asking 
questions, for she had been taught that it was not 
polite to disturb people when they were busy. 
She took up her knitting, which Nurse had 
lately taught her to do, and knitted quietly on 
a little chair by her mother’s side, till Nurse 
came to tell her it was bed-time. 

Up in the nursery she and Nurse talked of 
all the things they must take with them. “We 
mustn’t forget my spade and bucket, must we?” 
said Nora. 

“And Mother says we may take May, so 
don’t forget to pack her nightgown, will you, 
Nurse?” 

Nurse said she would not forget. 

“I do wish we had a little dressing-gown for 
May. It would be so nice for her to wear to the 
breakfast table. Don’t you think you could 
make her one to-morrow? I am so afraid she 


21 


Everyday Stories 

might catch cold by the sea if she had no dress- 
i n g”g° wn -” 

“But she never has had one,” said Nurse, “so 
I don’t think she will catch cold without one, and 
I’m sure I sha’n’t have time to make one to- 
morrow. I shall be busy ironing your frocks, 
and then there will be the packing to do.” 

Nurse then got the bath ready, and soon Nora 
was bathed and ready for bed. But just before 
she got into bed Mother came up and heard her 
say her prayers. Nora put her hands together, 
and closed her eyes, and said the words very care- 
fully and softly. Then Mother tucked her up 
in bed, and told her to go to sleep quickly. 

The next day was a very busy day. What 
with the ironing and the packing, Nurse had 
very little time to look after Nora. But Nora 
was a good little girl. She never bothered 
grown-up people when they were busy, and any- 
thing that she wanted she got for herself; and 
if she had set her heart on some particular doll 
which was on a high shelf and too high for her 
to reach, she amused herself with something else 
instead. 

At last it was time for them to start. They 
drove to the station, with their big box perched 
up at the front of the carriage, by the coach- 
man’s side. All the way Nora kept asking 
Nurse if she had remembered to pack every- 
thing ’. 


22 


A Visit to the Sea 

“Did you pack my sash, Nurse?” 

“Oh, yes, your sash is all right.” 

“And my new hat?” 

“Yes, your hat is all right too.” 

“Is the sea a long way off, or shall we be 
there soon?” asked Nora. 

“We sha’n’t be very long,” 9aid Nurse. 

The station was soon reached. Nurse took 
a ticket for herself, and a half ticket for Nora. 
When they were in the train Nora looked out of 
the window and Nurse read the newspaper. 
Nora saw sheep and horses and cows in the fields, 
and once she saw the dearest little pony you ever 
saw. It had such a long tail, and a long mane 
too. Nurse said it was a Shetland pony. 

At last they got to the end of their journey. 
They took a carriage at the station, and drove 
to their boarding-house. Nora had once been 
to the seaside before, but it was not the same 
place. She looked out of the window of the 
cab and saw many little boys and girls with 
spades and buckets. 

“I think they must be going to dig on the 
sands,” said Nora; and probably they were. 

When they got to their boarding-house the 
landlady made them very comfortable. She 
had some hot water ready for them to wash their 
hands with, and the sitting-room and bedroom 
looked beautifully clean. There were some 
flowers in the sitting-room; and in the bedroom 
23 


Everyday Stories 

were two snow-white beds, a little one for Nora, 
and a bigger one for Nurse. They soon got the 
unpacking of their box done, and then they had 
some supper. 

Nora was very anxious to go down to the 
beach to dig, so as soon as supper was over they 
set off together. But they had a disappoint- 
ment that evening, for when they got near the 
sea they found that it was high tide, and there 
could be no digging till to-morrow. I have 
told you before that Nora was a good-tempered 
little girl; she never made a fuss over what 
couldn’t be helped. When she found that there 
was no sand she just said : “Well, we must wait 
till to-morrow, that’s all.” They were just go- 
ing to turn back and make their way home again, 
when what should they see but three dear little 
donkeys! These donkeys had saddles on them 
all ready for little girls to ride. And they had 
their names printed on a little brass plate which 
was fastened to a strap which went over the 
donkey’s nose. The name of one donkey was 
“Galloping Jimmy”; another was “Bluebell”; 
and another “Swift.” Nora stopped to give 
them a pat on the back, and then she said to 
Nurse : “Do you think I should have time for a 
ride before bed-time? Oh, do let me have one!” 
Nurse said she might have a short one, so Nora 
was lifted on to the saddle. She chose Gallop- 
ing Jimmy, because she thought the word “Gal- 

24 


A Visit to the Sea 

loping” meant that Jimmy could go very fast. 
“Galloping” does mean that; but Jimmy didn’t 
seem inclined to hurry. He walked along in 
such a lazy way that he made them laugh. 
Nurse said that very likely he was tired, and 
they asked the donkey boy not to beat him. It 
would have made Nora very unhappy if the 
dear little donkey had been beaten for her sake. 

When the ride was over, Nora and Nurse 
went back to their rooms, and Nora was soon 
fast asleep in bed. And so ended the first day 
at the sea. 

The next day was beautifully fine and warm, 
and soon after breakfast they set off for the 
sand. Directly they got down to the beach, 
Nora took off her shoes and socks, and Nurse 
helped her to put on her paddling drawers. 
Nora set to work at once to build a castle of 
sand. She made it firm and high, and then she 
dug a moat all around it, and filled it with 
water which she got in her little bucket from 
the sea. But the water kept sinking into the 
sand, until at last a good idea came into her 
head. She dug a kind of ditch which reached 
from the sea to her castle, and the water ran 
along this ditch from the sea, and soon her 
moat was full of water. Then she stood on the 
top of the castle, and jumped over the moat on 
to the dry sand. It was such fun. Nurse 
counted “One, two, three and away,” and when 
25 


Everyday Stories 

she said “away,” Nora tried how far she could 
jump. Then came the paddling in the sea. 
Nora joined two other little girls, and they took 
hold of each other’s hands, and ran into the 
water, and let the waves come over their ankles. 

There is no time to-day to tell about the shells 
and pebbles they found, or the picnic they had 
on the beach; we must leave that for another 
day. 


26 


Peggy 

O NCE upon a time three little children 
were playing on a lawn at the back of 
a small house; at least, two of them 
were playing, the third was only a baby, and he 
was asleep in his cradle. The cradle was often 
brought out of doors on fine days and put on a 
rug on the lawn where the two elder children 
played. Sometimes Baby slept in his carriage, 
but just now it had gone to be mended. 

The names of the children were Peggy, 
Robin, and Baby John. Peggy was five, Robin 
was three, and Baby one. Robin’s real name 
was Robert, and Father said they would have 
to leave off calling him Robin when he was 
bigger. He said it would sound absurd to call 
a man “Robin.” Peggy thought it would too, 
but she thought it a pretty name for a little boy. 
Peggy’s real name was Margaret. 

On this particular afternoon Peggy was 
“minding” the other two. She was such a moth- 
erly, sensible little girl for her age. Although 
she was only five, she helped her mother in ever 
so many ways. They had no nurse, and so 
Peggy had learned to do a great deal for her- 
self. She dressed and undressed herself all ex- 
cept buttoning her petticoat behind. She wore 
jerseys as a rule, and they had no buttons, so 

27 


Everyday Stories 

there was no difficulty there, except that they 
were rather tight to get over her head some- 
times, especially when they had just been 
washed. Indeed, she not only dressed herself; 
she dressed Robin also. He didn’t need much 
of a wash in the morning, for Mother bathed 
them all at night. 

One day she heard a caller say to Mother: 
“I can’t think how you can manage without a 
nurse,” and Mother said : “Well, you see, I am 
obliged to; it is a matter of dollars and cents.” 
Peggy did not know what that meant, but she 
heard her mother go on to say: “Peggy is a 
real help to me now. I don’t know what I 
should do without her.” 

“Peggy!” exclaimed the visitor. “Why, she 
is almost a baby herself.” 

“Oh, no,” said Mother, “you wouldn’t call 
her a baby if you saw what a lot of things she 
can do.” 

This pleased Peggy very much. She loved 
helping Mother — dear Mother, who sometimes 
looked so tired, and had headaches. 

It was rather hot this afternoon, and Baby 
was getting restless in his sleep. Peggy hoped 
he wouldn’t wake up and cry before Mother 
came out. He didn’t look very comfortable; 
he moved about uneasily though he was only 
half awake. She took the shawl away which 
had been covering his little fat legs, thinking 

28 


Peggy 

he was perhaps too hot, and then she rocked 
the cradle gently, at the same time holding up 
one finger and saying “Hush!” to Robin, who 
was also feeling the heat and was inclined to be 
fretful. 

Baby was soothed again into a quiet sleep, and 
Robin now thought it was his turn for a little 
attention. 

“I are tired of Teddy Bear, Peggy. What 
can we do?” 

“I know of a nice game, Robin; but I must 
go in a minute to get something.” 

“What is it?” 

“Wait till I get it, and you shall see.” 

Then Peggy went indoors and brought out 
a little basket. In it there were acorns. 

“Ickle cups and saucers!” exclaimed Robin 
in delight. 

“Yes,” said Peggy, “We will play at a tea- 
party, shall we?” 

Then Robin laid out the little acorns on the 
rug, and Peggy got some leaves for plates. 
Then she got some small stones from the path 
and put them on the leaves. Those were for 
bread and butter. Little twigs which had fallen 
from the trees were the knives. 

“Oh, we haven’t got a white tablecloth!” ex- 
claimed Peggy. “But a hanky will do. You 
just pick up the cups and saucers a minute, 
Robin, and I will spread my hanky out.” 

29 


Everyday Stories 

Peggy’s handkerchief was not very clean. It 
had been used yesterday to rub the dust of the 
road off Robin when he tumbled down, and was 
certainly not as white as it should have been; 
however, they made it do for the occasion. 
Then Robin got some daisies and laid them on 
the middle of the cloth for ornament. They 
could neither of them think what to get that 
would hold water for them, so he just laid them 
down, and they pretended they were in a vase. 

“Now then,” said Peggy, “Teddy Bear and 
you and I will have tea. Oh, dear, we haven’t 
a teapot!” 

They looked round to see what would do for a 
teapot, and saw one of the flowers of a fox- 
glove. “That would do,” said Peggy. 

So they pretended to pour tea, from the flower 
into the little “saucers” of the acorns, and then 
they pretended they were very thirsty and wanted 
helping a great many times to more tea. Teddy 
Bear was greedy and ate too much of the bread 
and butter, so he was put by himself at the other 
end of the lawn till he should learn to behave 
himself better. Then Mother came out, and 
she had a cup of tea. 

Soon afterward Mother took them all for a 
little walk. It was only a very short one, be- 
cause Baby had to be carried, as his carriage 
had gone to be mended, and he was too heavy 
for Mother to carry far. 

30 


Peggy 

When they came home, it was Robin’s bed- 
time. He was always bathed first; then Baby, 
and then Peggy. Peggy very much wanted to 
play with her bricks when she got in. She was 
just getting them out of the cupboard when she 
saw Mother resting her head on her hand as if 
it ached. 

“Does your head hurt you?” she said. 

“Yes; I have rather a bad headache this eve- 
ning,” said Mother. 

“Can’t I help you?” said Peggy. She did 
badly want to play with her bricks, but she 
knew it would be selfish to do so if she could 
do anything for her mother. 

“Thank you, darling,” said Mother. “If you 
would get the little ones’ things ready, and take 
them to the bathroom for me, that would be a 
help. You know what I want, don’t you? 
Nightgowns, dressing-gowns, slippers.” 

“Yes, I know, Mother.” 

Peggy ran up and got everything ready. 
Then when Mother took the two little ones up 
she went too, and she amused Baby while 
Mother bathed Robin. 

Then she took Robin down to the kitchen 
and asked Sarah the servant to give him some 
milk and a biscuit while she herself went up 
again and undressed ready for her bath. 

At last all three were safely tucked up in 
bed. 


31 


Roguey 

R OGUEY was a puppy. I am his little 
mistress and my name is Sheila. Tom, 
my brother, says that Sheila is really a 
pony’s name, but I tell him that it is a girl’s 
name as well. Tom is a tease. I never knew 
such a boy for tricks. He does such things. I 
would play him more tricks if I could only think 
of things to do. Sometimes he is more than a 
joke. But Mother says that girls must learn to 
bear being teased. I have heard her say, though, 
that Tom is never to frighten or startle any one 
by his tricks. She said Father would be very 
angry if he did. And I will say this for Tom, 
he never does exactly startle me, though he gives 
me “the jumps.” I love him really ever so 
much, and when he goes away to school I shall 
miss him terribly. He is nine now, and he is go- 
ing next Easter. 

I have explained all this about Tom because 
it was he who gave me the puppy. 

I shall never forget the night he came. I 
was in the nursery playing with my dolls’ house, 
and I had just put the dolls to bed. There was 
a loud knock at the door, and when I said “come 
32 


Roguey 

in!” in walked Tom, carrying a sack tied round 
with string at the top. He had only knocked 
at the door for fun — just to make me wonder 
who it was. 

“What have you got in that sack, Tom?” I 
asked. 

“Ah! that’s the question,” said Tom. “What 
have I got, I wonder.” 

“Oh, Tom, is it anything nasty?” I said. 

“Look, it moves,” said Tom. 

“Now, what are you bringing into the nurs- 
ery, Master Tom?” said Nurse, who was sitting 
mending socks at the table. 

“It’s a dawg , mum, as sure as I’m alive.” He 
was copying our gardener when he said this. 
He always says dawg for dog . 

“Oh, Tom, is it really a puppy?” I exclaimed. 

Tom had promised to buy me a puppy when 
he had saved up enough money, and Mother 
had said I might have one. 

We untied the string round the top of the 
sack, and lifted out the dearest little dog you 
ever saw! 

Oh, he was sweet! I don’t know exactly how 
old he was, and Tom didn’t either. He had 
bought him from a man in the village, who had 
several more. 

Nurse loved dogs as much as we did, I be- 
lieve, but she knew better than we did then 
what mischief he would be up to. I know now, 

33 


Everyday Stories 

for I have had him a month, and the life that 
puppy has led me! 

At first I kept lifting him up, and kissing 
him every few minutes. He really was so sweet. 
He had a big head, and he kept putting it on 
one side and looking so funny. 

“Hadn’t we better give him some food, Tom?” 
I said. 

“We might give him some bread and milk, 
I should think,” said Tom. “But look here 
now, don’t you go and overfeed him. Girls gen- 
erally do.” 

“I shall ask Mother what to give him,” I 
said. “She knows a lot about dogs.” 

Tom fetched a little bread and milk from 
the kitchen in a saucer. 

“That can’t hurt him, anyhow,” he said. 

So he put it on the hearthrug, and the puppy 
dashed up without looking where he was go- 
ing, and knocked the saucer over, spilling all the 
milk. 

“Well, that is a nice beginning!” said Nurse. 

She fetched a cloth and wiped up the mess, 
and I ran down to the kitchen for more bread 
and milk. I brought it safely upstairs, and 
Tom held the puppy till I had got it safely on 
the floor. Then he put the little animal down, 
and if he didn’t knock it over again! He put 
his foot into the saucer, and over it went! 

Nurse said: “Come, this will never do”; but 

34 


Roguey 

she couldn’t help laughing, and we laughed till 
our sides ached. 

Again the mess was wiped up. It was now 
my bed-time. Tom had to go downstairs and 
have a music lesson. The man who taught him 
could only come in the evenings. 

The puppy was getting sleepy, so we thought 
we might safely leave him alone for a little 
while. He settled himself on the hearthrug 
and looked very snug. Nurse and I went to 
the bathroom and I had my bath. I don’t think 
we were out of the nursery more than ten min- 
utes, or at the most a quarter of an hour, for 
Nurse is very quick about bathing, and won’t 
allow a moment’s dawdling. 

When we got back to the nursery, what a 
sight met our eyes! Nurse had, unfortunately, 
left her work-basket on the floor near her arm- 
chair. It was a large, flat sort of basket with- 
out a lid, and it had all kinds of things in it — 
a pincushion, needlecase, tapes, buttons, and 
heaps of other things. 

The basket was overturned and everything was 
on the floor! Reels of cotton were all over the 
room. There were yards of tape lying unrolled. 
Loose linen buttons and other kinds were every- 
where. The pincushion was under the arm- 
chair. A little book of patterns of dress ma- 
terial, which had only come that morning, was 
torn to bits — not only the cover of the book, but 
35 


Everyday Stories 

some bits of stuff inside were bitten too. Alto- 
gether the muddle was dreadful! 

And the puppy just put his head on one side 
and stared at me with his solemn, innocent eyes! 

“Oh, Nurse, isn’t he awful?” I said. “I never 
saw such a roguey, and he did look so good 
when we left him.” 

We couldn’t help laughing at him, he looked 
so absurd, though it was really no laughing 
matter having to tidy the nursery again. 

“I think I shall call him ‘Rogue,’ or 
‘Roguey’,” I said. “I suppose you haven’t got a 
name yet, have you?” I said, speaking to him. 

He wriggled his little body about and wagged 
his tail. 

“You couldn’t give him a better name, I 
think,” said Nurse, “for a rogue he surely is.” 

So from that day we called him “Roguey.” 
If we were cross with him, when he had done 
something more mischievous than usual, we 
called him “Rogue,” but if we were friendly 
with him we called him “Roguey.” 

After that first day we didn’t have him quite 
so much in the nursery. But oh, the things he 
did all over the house! One day Father found 
his sponge in the hall! We knew Roguey must 
have put it there. No one else would think of 
doing such a silly thing. Another day a little 
story-book of mine, called The Tailor of Glou- 
cester, was found in the garden with some of 
36 


Roguey 

the pages out. As for slippers, he couldn't leave 
them alone. He quite destroyed one of Moth- 
er’s; and a shoe of mine was lost for days, till 
Tom at last found it in the summer-house, which 
is at the very other end of the garden. 

He was really getting rather too much of a 
good thing, though we still all loved him dearly. 
You really couldn’t help loving him; he had 
such a dear little face. It was almost impossible 
to scold him when he put his head on one side, 
as he was so fond of doing, and put on his 
“funny” expression. 

But the climax came one day. 

Elizabeth, who is our parlor-maid, was carry- 
ing a tray full of tumblers and things into the 
dining-room one morning. She was just turn- 
ing round a corner in the passage when Rogue 
made for her shoes and the bottom of her skirt. 
In trying to get out of his way she stumbled, 
and down went her tray! Four tumblers, a 
water-bottle, and three plates were broken! 

Elizabeth, who was not very old, began to 
cry, and altogether there was such a commotion. 

“It is that dreadful puppy,” she said. 

This was really too much. Mother said she 
could stand him no longer; he must go! On 
hearing that, I began to cry. I did love him so 
much. 

“I will tell you what we will do,” said 
Mother. “We will send him away to be trained. 

37 


Everyday Stories 

People often have to do that with puppies. 
And when he is sensible he shall come back.” 
That comforted me a little. 

That very same afternoon he was sent away to 
a man who was used to training dogs, and in a 
short time he came back quite a reformed char- 
acter. We hardly knew him again, he was so 
good! 

But in spite of all the trouble he gave us, he 
really was the dearest little dog! 


38 


The Unhappy Doll 

H ER name was Susan. She was a doll — 
very battered and bruised and broken 
— but still a doll ; or perhaps I ought to 
say partly a doll, for she had only one eye, one 
arm, and one and a half legs. The rest of her 
was all right, except for shabbiness. 

She belonged to a little girl called Veronica. 
Now Veronica often wished that she had not 
quite such a fine name; she would not have 
liked an ugly name, but “Veronica” was rather 
too much of a good thing. It made people ex- 
pect so much of her. They said: “Well, I 
am sure, with such a name as that, you ought 
to be a very well-behaved little girl.” Or: 
“Little girls who have such grand names should 
keep themselves extra clean and tidy,” and so 
on. 

However, she couldn’t change her name by 
wishing, so she had just to make the best of it. 

“I wish little girls could choose what they 
would be called,” she said. 

Then her face brightened, and a very loving 
look came into her eyes. While she had been 
thinking about names, she had at the same time 
been nursing Susan, and it was the sight of 

39 


Everyday Stories 

Susan’s poor little shabby body that had made 
her feel loving and tender. 

“Yes, it is true, you are not very pretty, my 
pet,” she said to the doll, “but Mother loves you 
all the more for that. Mother loves you ever 
so much, because you have only one eye, and one 
arm, and a leg and a half! And I do believe 
you have been crying! And some day Mother 
will make you some new clothes. Yes, she will. 
A pretty blue frock, and p’r’aps a white hat.” 

She herself was, of course, “Mother.” 

“And would you like your name changed? 
Don’t you like Susan? 

“I don’t believe you do like it. Tell Mother, 
pet.” 

Veronica hugged her doll tightly, wiped her 
eyes, and washed her face. 

“Now you look ever so much nicer,” she said. 

But it was not the name “Susan” that made 
the doll cry. I will tell you what it was. It 
was because whenever any children came to play 
with Veronica and her dolls they always chose 
one of the prettier dolls — Cynthia, or Margaret, 
or Eva. These three dolls were very nicely 
dressed. (Veronica had not had them long.) 

One day Veronica had a party, and three little 
girls came to tea with her. They had tea in 
the garden, for it was summer-time. After tea, 
they began wondering what they should play at 
first. 


40 


The Unhappy Doll 

“I know,” said one of the little visitors. 
“Let’s play with the dolls. Let’s each choose 
one, and then we can each be a mother and have 
one little girl.” 

So they brought the dolls out into the garden, 
and put them all in a row — Cynthia, Margaret, 
Eva, and poor Susan. 

The eldest little girl chose first. She looked 
at the four faces before her, and then she looked 
at their frocks. 

“I will have Eva for my little girl,” she said. 

She chose Eva partly because of her pretty 
face, and partly because of some new blue shoes 
which she had on. 

“I will have Cynthia,” said the next chdd. 

The youngest little girl, whose turn it now was, 
glanced at the two remaining dolls and burst out 
laughing. 

“My choosing won’t take long,” she said. 
“Nobody would ever think of choosing that old 
thing.” She pointed toward Susan. 

So once more poor Susan was left out — sitting 
there leaning against the ivy-covered wall, all 
alone! 

But not for long. 

“You haven’t chosen yet,” cried two of the lit- 
tle visitors at once to Veronica. “There’s not 
much choice, is there?” 

Now Veronica was nearly crying. She felt so 
very sorry for poor Susan. But she was anxious 
41 


Everyday Stories 

that the other children should not see the tears 
which were in her eyes, and she turned quickly, 
so that her back was toward them, and said : 
“You have left me the one I love best.” 

Her little friends thought she was joking, and 
laughed. 

“I mean it,” she said, “really and truly.” 

“You don’t mean to say that you like that 
dirty old thing best?” cried one. 

“She is so shabby,” cried another. 

“And she is only a bit of a doll : she is broken 
all over,” said the third child. 

“That is why I love her,” said little Veronica. 
And she hugged poor Susan, and kissed her, and 
whispered : “Mother’s little pet.” 


42 


Washing Day 

O NCE upon a time there were two little 
girls named Evelyn and Audrey. They 
were playing in the nursery one after- 
noon. They had been building with their bricks 
for a long time, and Audrey was beginning to get 
a little tired of the game, when Evelyn suddenly 
said : “Audrey, our dolls’ clothes are dreadfully 
dirty. Let’s have a real good washing day and 
wash all their clothes.” 

“Yes, let’s,” said Audrey. 

“First we must undress every doll. We’ll 
wrap them all up together in the gray shawl 
so that they won’t catch cold.” 

The dolls were undressed. There were four 
of them — the sailor-boy doll, two little girl dolls, 
and one long-clothes baby doll. 

“Oh, I don’t think we had better wash the 
sailor clothes,” said Audrey. “Mother said they 
might never fit again if we did. They get 
smaller and smaller if you wash them.” 

“Well, you had better dress Robert again, 
then.” (Robert was the sailor boy.) 

So Audrey dressed him again. She thought 
he looked rather disappointed that his clothes 
were not to be washed like the others’. 


43 


Everyday Stories 

“Never mind, old boy,” she said, and she gave 
him a kiss. 

Evelyn then fetched some water in a can. 
Then she got a piece of soap, and then she ran 
to her mother’s bedroom, knocked at the door 
and said: “Please, Mother, may we have your 
basin for a little while?” 

“‘What for, dear?” said Mother. 

“To wash our dolls’ clothes in. They really 
are so dirty, Mother — quite a disgrace.” 

“Yes, you can have it. You must be care- 
ful not to spill the water, or make a mess. I 
am going out, so you will have to look after 
yourselves this afternoon.” 

“Oh, yes, we’ll be very careful.” 

Evelyn was seven, and her mother knew she 
could trust her quite well to take care of Audrey, 
who was five. 

Mother carried the basin into the nursery as 
it was rather a heavy one. Then she said: 
“Now I must go, so good-by till tea-time.” 

The little girls both said, “Good-by, Mother,” 
and then they began washing. First Evelyn 
sorted all the things. She put the frocks into 
one heap, the underclothes into another, the out- 
door things into another, and the socks into an- 
other. There was really only one pair of socks 
in the last heap. Three of the dolls had had 
socks, but two pairs had been lost. And I am 
sorry to say all the shoes were lost, except 

44 


Washing Day 

Robert’s, and his were a shiny black sort that 
wouldn’t come off his feet. 

“I’m rather glad Robert’s shoes won’t take off, 
aren’t you?” said Audrey. “They might have 
been lost by now.” 

“Yes, it’s a good thing they won’t,” answered 
Evelyn. “But I don’t know why you are talk- 
ing about his shoes just now, because we don’t 
wash shoes.” 

“No, I know we don’t; but seeing the socks 
made me think of shoes, for shoes and socks both 
go on people’s feet.” 

“Dolls' feet, you mean.” 

“People’s feet too,” said Audrey. 

“Now,” said Evelyn, “the clothes are ready. 
You shall wash the first thing if you like, and 
then we’ll take it in turns with the others.” 

Audrey tucked up her sleeves above her el- 
bows, and began her work. She dipped the lit- 
tle frock into the warm water and rubbed soap 
on to it. Then she rubbed one piece of the frock 
against the other, and kept dipping it up and 
down in the water. 

“Do you think it’s clean now?” she asked her 
sister. 

“You haven’t done the sleeves, have you?” said 
Evelyn. 

“Oh, no, I forgot. It wouldn’t do not to wash 
the sleeves, would it?” 

Audrey did the sleeves, and then she rinsed the 


Everyday Stories 

little frock and hung it up on the high nursery 
fender to dry. 

“I think I had better just look after the dolls 
a minute, while you have your turn at washing,” 
she said. 

“Yes, you had better,” said Evelyn. 

Audrey looked at Robert first. He still 
looked a little sad. 

“I wish your clothes would wash, darling,” 
she said. “But I’ll tell you what you shall do 
for a great treat. You shall sit on my knee at 
tea-time, and I’ll give you little drinks of my 
milk, and little tastes of my bread and butter. 
There then!” She pressed him to her breast 
and comforted him as best she could. 

“I think he looks happier now,” she said to 
Evelyn. 

“Are the others all right?” asked Evelyn. 

“Yes. Oh, no, though, Long Clothes wants 
her feeding-bottle. She is crying.” 

“She really ntust wait till the washing is done. 
We are so very busy this afternoon,” said Evelyn. 
“It’s your turn again now. You do the socks.” 

“I wish we could have some clean water,” said 
Audrey. 

“We really ought to, or the other clothes won’t 
be nice and white. I wonder if Esther would 
change the water. I’ll go and see.” 

Esther was very good-natured. She came up 
and changed the water for them. 

46 


Washing Day 

Audrey did the socks, and then she began 
to get tired of washing, and said: “Let’s leave 
the rest of the things for another day.” 

“Oh, you do soon get tired of things, Audrey,” 
said Evelyn. “It’s very babyish of you to want 
to give up a thing so soon. You ought to stick 
to things till they are finished. I am sure 
Mother would say so if she were here.” 

Audrey felt rather ashamed of being tired so 
soon. 

“All right,” she said. “I’ll stick to it.” 

At last everything was done. There was quite 
a nice row of things hanging on the fender. 

“Oh, how I wish we could have a hot iron 
to iron them, don’t you?” said Audrey 

“We mustn’t,” said Evelyn. “Don’t you re- 
member how I hurt my hand with a hot iron 
once when we tried it?” 

“Yes, but perhaps you wouldn’t this time,” 
said Audrey. 

“No, but we mustn’t try, anyhow, for Mother 
said we were not to do anything with the fire. 
We mustn’t put an iron on.” 

Soon afterward Mother came in, and they all 
had tea. Audrey remembered her promise, and 
nursed poor Robert. He looked much more 
cheerful at the sight of tea. The other dolls 
were still wrapped in the gray shawl. Long 
Clothes had forgotten she was hungry and had 
fallen asleep. 


47 


The Little Cousin from 



NCE upon a time there lived a little 



girl whose name was Beatrice. That 


was her real name; but she was gener- 
ally called “Bee” for short. She was sitting on 
the lawn one afternoon under a shady tree, try- 
ing to mend her doll’s baby-carriage, which was 
broken. One of the tires had come off a wheel, 
and she was trying to put it on again. But it 
was rather hard work for her little fingers. She 
had been trying for quite a long time, but with- 
out success, and she was beginning to get quite 
hot and tired, when she saw a servant coming 
toward her. It was Anne bringing some tea out 
on to the lawn. 

“Oh, Anne, do see to this tire for me. It 
has slipped off the wheel, and it seems too tight 
to go on again.” 

“But I must get tea ready first,” said Anne. 
“Your mother will be out in a minute expect- 
ing it.” 

“Well, after that then, will you?” said Bee. 

“I’ll see,” said Anne, hurrying away to fetch 
the bread and butter and cake. 


The Little Cousin from India 

So Bee went on struggling with the tire, and 
as she worked she remembered some words her 
mother often said to her: “If at first you don’t 
succeed, try, try again.” 

“I am sure I have tried again and again,” she 
said. 

She was just beginning to give up in despair 
when, one more tug with her little fingers, and 
the deed was done! On slipped the tire, and 
the wheel looked quite nice again, just like the 
others. 

Anne came out with the bread and butter, 
and was just going to offer to help, when Bee 
said: “It’s all right, Anne; I have done it.” 
Then she ran indoors and washed her hands, 
and was just ready for tea when Mother came 
out of the house. 

“I’m so glad we’re going to have tea out of 
doors, Mother, aren’t you?” said Bee. 

“Yes; I think it is ever so much nicer,” an- 
swered Mother. 

“How is it I am having tea with you to-day, 
instead of with Nurse?” asked Bee. 

“Nurse has gone out this afternoon,” said 
Mother. 

Then they began tea. Bee was a gentle, polite 
little girl. She was very quick in noting when 
her mother’s plate was empty, and handed the 
plate of bread and butter to her, before helping 
herself. 


49 


Everyday Stories 

“I have a bit of news for you,” said Mother, 
when they had nearly finished tea. 

“What is it?” asked Bee. 

“It is this,” said Mother. “You know I have 
often told you about your little cousin out in 
India, haven’t I? Well, she is coming to live 
with us.” 

“To live?” exclaimed Bee. “Do you mean 
for always?” 

“She will be with us for some years, I ex- 
pect,” said Mother. 

“Are years a long time?” asked Bee. 

“Oh, yes, a very long time.” 

“Oh, Mother, won’t it be lovely to have a 
little girl to live with us! She will have to have 
a bed in the nursery like mine, won’t she?” 

“Yes, she will, dear.” 

“Is she as big as I?” 

“Well, I have not seen her yet, you know. 
But she is about your age. Let me see, you 
were five in June, and she was five in April. 
So she is a little older than you, but not much. 
Perhaps she will be a little taller than you.” 

“When is she coming?” 

“She will be here a week from to-day.” 

“Is anybody coming with her?” 

“Oh, yes; she couldn’t come all that long way 
by herself.” 

“Is India very far off?” 

“Yes; a long, long way. Your little cousin 

50 


The Little Cousin from India 

will come in a big ship, and she will be a great 
many days on the water. Her father and mother 
are bringing her.” 

“You haven’t told me her name yet, Mother.” 

“Oh, no, I haven’t. It is Helen.” 

“I do wish next week would be quick and 
come,” said Bee. “I do so want to see her.” 

The week soon passed away, and the day 
came when Helen and her father and mother 
were expected. Bee was so excited about it. 
She kept running to the window every few min- 
utes to see if they were coming. At last she 
heard carriage wheels, and once more she ran 
to the window. She was not disappointed this 
time. She first saw her mother get out of the 
carriage, then a gentleman who she thought 
must be Helen’s father, then a lady who she 
thought must be Helen’s mother, and last of all 
Helen herself. In another minute she heard 
steps in the hall and on the stairs, and then she 
heard her mother calling: “Bee, where are 
you?” 

“Here I am, Mother,” said Bee, running out 
of the nursery to meet them. 

“Here is your Cousin Helen. Come and 
shake hands with her and give her a kiss.” 

Bee kissed Helen, but she could not think of 
anything to say just at first. So she took hold 
of her hand and led her into the nursery. 

“This is Helen, Nurse,” she said. 

51 


Everyday Stories 

“How do you do, my dear?” said Nurse. 

“Quite well, thank you,” said Helen. 

“Now let me take your things off, and make 
you comfortable,” said Nurse. 

So Helen’s things were taken off, and she was 
made tidy and washed by Nurse, while Bee 
stood by, watching. Soon the little girls began 
talking together. 

“How did you like being in the ship?” said 
Bee. 

“I liked it sometimes, but sometimes I wanted 
to be at home again,” said Helen. 

“Did you have a bedroom in the ship?” 

“Yes, a tiny one, and my bed was like a little 
shelf near the wall.” 

“Oh, how funny!” 

“How old are you?” said Helen. 

“Five,” answered Bee. 

“Why, that is funny, so am I,” said Helen. 

Then they went back to the nursery hand in 
hand, and Bee showed Helen her dolls. That 
took a long time, for Bee had six dolls. 

“I have a lovely doll to show you,” said Helen, 
“but it is packed up now.” 

“What color dress has it on?” asked Bee. 

“Pink,” said Helen. 

“Has it light hair or dark?” 

“It has lovely golden curls.” 

“I should think you’d call it ‘Goldy Locks’ 
then, don’t you? I know a story about a doll 
52 


The Little Cousin from India 

with golden hair, and it is called Goldy Locks.” 

“Oh, but my doll isn’t. It is called ‘Maude.’ ” 

The two little girls soon became great friends. 
Bee was so pleased to have some one to play with. 

“Why are you going to live with us?” she 
asked her cousin one day. 

“It is too hot for me in India,” said Helen. 
“Mother says I should be ill if I stayed there.” 

“Can you read?” asked Bee. 

“No. Can you?” 

“No, but I know my letters.” 

Nurse then unpacked Helen’s clothes, and 
dressed both children to go down to the draw- 
ing-room. They had white frocks on, and 
Nurse would not let them go down till their 
hands were beautifully clean and their hair very 
tidy. When they were quite ready, they went 
down hand in hand, and Bee knocked at the 
drawing-room door. When Mother said 
“Come in!” they went in together. They found 
the “grown-ups” there. 

Bee shook hands with her uncle and aunt, and 
they soon all became friendly together. 

In a week’s time Helen’s father and mother 
had to leave. Helen soon learned to feel quite 
happy in her new home. The cousins had great 
fun playing together. At night, too, Bee liked 
to have a companion. Their little beds were 
close together, and they could see each other 
between the bars of the bedsteads. 

53 


George's Birthday 

I T was George’s birthday. He was six years 
old. He had been looking forward to his 
birthday for weeks, for his mother had 
promised him a party. And now at last the day 
had come. 

He woke very early in the morning, and sat 
up in bed wondering if he would find any pres- 
ents near his plate on the breakfast-table when 
he went down. He felt almost sure he would. 
He had not liked to talk about presents to any 
one, because he thought people would think him 
greedy, but there was one thing he very much 
wished to have, and that was a new baseball bat. 
His big brothers Fred and Geoffrey, who were 
away at school as a rule, were home for the holi- 
days just now, and they were forever playing 
baseball. They would not let George play with 
them ; they said he was too much of a baby, and 
that he would get hit by the ball. Now George 
did not like being called a baby, and he de- 
termined that he would get Gracie, his sister, to 
pitch to him, and he would practice and practice 
ever so hard till he was a really good player, and 
then, wouldn’t he astonish Fred and Geoffrey! 
If only he had a bat of his own! 

54 


George's Birthday 

He was thinking so much about baseball that 
he forgot that his mother had told him last night 
that if he looked under his pillow in the morn- 
ing he might perhaps find something. Suddenly 
he remembered, and putting his hand cautiously 
under his pillow, he felt a parcel. He was so 
excited he could hardly unfasten the string. 
What could it be? Not a bat, certainly! No, 
he could tell that by the shape. Perhaps a book? 
He hoped it would have pictures if it was a 
book. At last he got the string undone, then he 
took off the paper, and he found such a pretty 
album for his collection of stamps. He had 
lately begun to have a collection of his very 
own, and his father had told him that some day 
he should have an album for them. He felt 
sure his father must have given him this. 

When he got down to breakfast he found four 
parcels near his plate. The first one he opened 
was from his mother, and was a book with lovely 
pictures in it. The second was a kite from Fred. 
The third was a new kind of puzzle from Geof- 
frey. The fourth was a box of chocolates from 
Gracie. In his heart of hearts, although he 
liked all his presents, he was disappointed that 
there was no baseball bat. However, of course 
he wouldn’t say a word to anybody about his 
disappointment; he was too polite to let any- 
body think that he wanted something which they 
had not given him. 


55 


Everyday Stories 

He thanked them all very much for the pres- 
ents, and then he was just going to sit down when 
he felt something hard leaning against his chair. 
He looked to see what it was, and lo and behold, 
it was a baseball-bat! He could hardly believe 
his eyes, but yes, there it was, and a beauty too. 
It had come from Uncle Frank, and had arrived 
late the night before. 

After breakfast, as it was his birthday, Geof- 
frey said he would have a game with him. 

“Baseball do you mean?” said George. 

“Yes, a real good game.” 

So they played, and Geoffrey praised George’s 
batting, and said, with practice, he would soon 
get on. George had never played with a real 
baseball before; he had only had rubber ones. 
He got rather a hard knock on the arm once, 
but he felt it would never do for Geoffrey to 
see him cry now that he was six, so he kept back 
the tears and bore the pain like a man, and he 
felt so proud and happy when Geoffrey said: 
“You are a brave little chap, and you’ll get on 
all right when you go to school.” 

In the afternoon there was the party. Three 
boys and two little girls came to it. They had 
swings, hide-and-seek, hop-scotch and tag. 
They played in the garden and field all the time, 
and had tea on the lawn, as it was a beautiful 
summer day. It was a most happy party. 
There was just one little thing which spoiled it 
56 


George's Birthday 

for a time, and that was that one little girl 
peeped when some others were hiding. She 
ought to have known better, for she was five 
years old. However, she did peep, and she was 
found out, and the others called her a horrid 
little thing. Her name was Elsie. When they 
called her horrid, and said she ought to be sent 
home, she began to cry. They let her cry for a 
time, and then one of the bigger boys said: 
“Now, Elsie, if you’ll promise never to peep 
again, we’ll forgive you; but mind you never do 
it again, for it’s a horrid thing to cheat at games.” 
Elsie promised, and said she was very sorry, 
and they all made friends again. 

After that all went smoothly, everybody 
played fair, and bed-time came all too soon. At 
last the party broke up, and George went to bed 
quite tired out. He wished birthdays would 
come a little oftener, for he had had a very 
happy day. 


$7 


Keeping Shop 

HAT shall we play?” said May. 



“I know,” said Kathleen. “Let’s 
pretend to have a shop. I’ll keep it 


and you be a lady coming to buy.” 

“Can you buy candy at it?” asked May. 

“Candy? No, of course not,” said Kathleen. 
“You are always thinking about candy, May; I 
never saw such a greedy girl.” 

“Well, what sort of shop is yours? You like 
candy too, just as much as me.” 

“Mine is where you buy dresses and buttons 
and things.” 

Kathleen and May were sisters. Kathleen 
was the elder. She was nearly seven. It was 
she who generally decided what games they 
should play. She was quite ready to be fair and 
to “take it in turns,” but May, who was only five, 
wasn’t as quick at thinking of nice games, and 
she generally asked Kathleen to choose. 

“Now let’s get the shop ready,” said Kath- 
leen. “Here are these bits of dress patterns 
Mother said we might have. We’ll pretend 
they are big pieces of stuff, and you must come 
to the shop and say you want to buy a dress for 
your little girl.” 

“Here are some buttons,” said May. 


Keeping Shop 

“Oh, May, you mustn’t get things out of 
Nurse’s work-basket without asking.” 

Just at that moment Nurse came into the room. 

“Please, Nursie, may we have some things 
from your work-basket to play shop with?” 

“Yes,” said Nurse. 

She let them have a yard measure, some tape, 
two reels of cotton, a packet of needles, and a 
box of pins. 

“That’s enough, I think,” said Kathleen. 
“Thank you, Nursie.” 

They spread all the things out, and then the 
shop was ready. 

Kathleen stood behind a little table, which 
they called the counter. 

“Oh, Nursie, do give me some pennies. I 
won’t lose them.” 

“I haven’t my purse,” said Nurse. “I’ll cut 
you some little round pieces of paper and you 
can pretend it is money.” 

“All right. Thank you,” said Kathleen. 

Nurse cut the round pieces of paper and gave 
some to each girl. Then May walked into the 
shop. 

“Good morning, Mr. Smith,” she said. 
“Please would you be kind enough to show me 
some stuff for dresses?” 

“Yes, madam, certainly,” said Mr. Smith. It 
was Kathleen really who answered, of course; 
but she was going to be “Mr. Smith” now. 

59 


Everyday Stories 

“Do you want it for ladies’ dresses, madam, or 
for little girls’?” 

“I want it for my little girl at home, please.” 

“Certainly, madam. Now here is some very 
pretty blue stuff. That would make a lovely 
dress for a little girl.” 

“Oh, but she has a blue dress. I want a green 
one, please.” 

“Then here is a pretty green,” said Mr. Smith. 

“Yes, that will do nicely, thank you. Could 
you send it up, please?” 

“I am sorry, madam, but my boy is out just 
now; I will send it when he comes in.” 

Then May pretended to go home. One 
corner of the nursery, just behind the door, was 
home. So she went and showed her little girl 
the green stuff for her new dress. The little girl 
was delighted. “Oh, dear, I forgot some things 
I wanted ; I must go back again to the shop.” 

She went back and said : “Please, Mr. Smith, 
I forgot to say I want some pins, please.” 

“Certainly, madam. I will show you some 
very good pins.” 

The box of pins was shown and a penny’s 
worth bought. 

“I’m afraid I forgot to pay you for the green 
stuff.” 

“Oh, don’t mention it, madam. Yes, I think 
you did forget, though.” 

“How much was it?” 


60 


Keeping Shop 

“Ten cents, madam.” 

“Here is the money. Please give me some 
change.” 

“The pins are a penny, madam.” 

“Oh, yes, here it is.” 

“It is a very fine morning, isn’t it, madam?” 

“Yes, it is.” 

“What else can I show you to-day, madam?” 

“I think I should like some buttons, please. 
My little girl is always losing buttons off her 
clothes.” 

“Here is a very good kind for not coming off.” 

“Then please give me five cents’ worth.” 

Then Mr. Smith made a very neat parcel of 
the buttons and the pins. 

“Shall I send them, madam?” he asked. 

“Oh, no, thank you, I will take them. I am 
going straight home, and it’s only a little parcel.” 

“It’s a very fine day, madam.” (“Oh, no, I 
forgot we said that,” said Kathleen.) 

“I think we’ve had enough of the drygoods 
shop,” said May. “Let’s have a toy-shop now.” 

“All right,” said Kathleen. 

“But it’s time to get ready for dinner,” said 
Nurse. 

“Oh, Nurse!” said May, “we’ve hardly had 
any time for play.” 

“Now, Miss May, no grumbling. Look at 
Miss Kathleen, she always does at once so cheer- 
fully what I tell her.” 


61 


Everyday Stories 

“Kathleen is nearly seven. She ought to do 
better than me.” 

“Yes, but you are quite old enough to be 
obedient,” said Nurse. 

Soon the two little girls were ready for dinner, 
with clean faces and hands and neat hair. 

“We can play the toy-shop another day,” said 
Kathleen, as they went down to dinner. 

“Yes, so we can,” answered May. 


62 


The Hay-Field 

“T^LEASE, Mother, may we go to the hay- 
field this afternoon? You know you 
said we might some day.” 

The speaker was a little girl of five. She 
had big blue eyes and dark, curly hair. She 
stood at the half-open door of the drawing- 
room, and behind her stood her little brother, 
who also had blue eyes and curly hair. He was 
a chubby little man, and he looked very sweet 
as he stood anxiously listening for Mother’s 
answer. He was dressed, like his sister, in 
a blue smocked overall, and neither of them 
had any socks on. They wore sandals in 
summer. 

Mother was writing letters at her little writ- 
ing-table in the window. 

She looked up with a smile. 

“Where is Don?” she asked. Don was the 
little boy’s name. (It was Donovan really, but 
he was called Don for short.) 

“Here he is, just behind me.” He generally 
was just behind Maggie. He could not bear 
her out of his sight for many minutes to- 
gether. 

“Yes, you may go to-day,” said Mother. “I 

63 


Everyday Stories 

will take you after dinner, and we will call for 
Jack and Rosie and see if they would like to 
come too.” 

“Tea in the hay-field, Mummy?” said Don. 

“Yes, we’ll take some tea. It will be a regu- 
lar hay picnic, won’t it?” 

“I shall take old Dibs wiv me,” said Don, as 
the two children went up to the nursery to- 
gether. “He loves hay, and he can eat it in 
the field, while we have tea.” Dibs was a toy 
horse. Don loved him dearly. 

“And I think I will take Peggy. She would 
love to have a game in the hay.” Peggy was a 
doll. She was just a little shabby, but not very 
bad, and she was Maggie’s favorite doll. 

“P’aps we shall have to help Mummy carry 
the picnic, and then we can’t carry Dibs or 
Peggy eiver,” suggested Don. 

“You don’t carry a picnic, Don,” said Maggie. 
“A picnic is when you get there. It means tea 
and things out of doors.” 

“What things?” asked Don. 

“Oh, don’t bother so,” said Maggie. 

In the afternoon they set off with Mother. 
They were all pretty well laden, for they man- 
aged to take Dibs and Peggy. Mother carried 
a basket full of eatables, and a tiny kettle and 
spirit lamp with which to make the tea; Maggie 
carried a bottle of milk, and Don had some cups 
and saucers, tied up in a brown paper parcel. 

64 


The Hay-Field 

You might have thought he would be likely to 
break these, as he was such a very little boy (he 
was only four) ; but they were enameled cups 
and saucers, which would not break. They were 
kept on purpose, for picnics, and for long railway 
journeys. 

On the way to the field they called for Rosie 
and Jack, who were friends of theirs. They 
were only just in time to catch them, for they 
were going for a walk with their nurse. Rosie 
ran indoors to ask her mother if they might go, 
and in a minute she ran out again, crying: 
“Yes, we may go.” 

The hay-field was beautiful. There were sev- 
eral large shady trees at one end of it, just as if 
they had been put there on purpose for people 
to have tea under, on a hot summer afternoon! 
The men were tossing the hay when the children 
arrived. They were shaking it up in the air 
with forks to let the sun and wind dry it. And 
in one part of the field there was a machine 
drawn by a horse, and this also was tossing up 
the hay. 

“You watch that horsey,” said Don to Dibs. 
“Look how nicely he pulls that hay thing along.” 
Dibs’ head was turned so that he could watch 
the machine while the children played. Oh, 
what fun they had! 

A little bed of hay was made for Peggy, and 
as soon as she was put into it she fell fast asleep. 

65 


Everyday Stories 

Then Maggie lay down on the ground, and the 
others covered her up with hay. They put so 
much over her that not a bit of her was to be 
seen. Then just for fun they called her the old 
woman who lived in a shoe, and before they 
could finish saying the word “shoe” out she 
sprang, and they all ran off as fast as they could. 
But she caught Jack, and she pretended to give 
him a good whipping, saying, in a very cross 
voice: “Now then, you go to bed; here’s some 
broth for you, but no bread, you naughty boy!” 
The next time they buried her in the hay she 
pretended to be a very fierce lion, and they could 
hear her growling. Suddenly she jumped out 
on them. How they did run! They ran up to 
Mother for protection, and tried to hide behind 
her dress, but the fierce old lion got hold of Rosie 
and gobbled her all up. 

“Don’t eat her really,” said Don, and they all 
laughed, for of course it was only a game; but 
Don did not always quite understand what was 
real and what was make-believe. 

They were quite hot with running about so 
much, and Mother said they must cool down a 
little before tea, so they walked about, and went 
to see how Peggy and Dibs were getting on. 
Peggy was still asleep, and Dibs was still looking 
at the machine tossing the hay. 

“I’ll give Dibs some hay to eat now, I fink,” 
said Don. 


66 


The Hay-Field 

“Can’t he get it for himself? There’s plenty 
about,” said Jack. 

“No, he likes a heap put in front of him,” said 
Don. 

They put a big heap in front of Dibs’ nose, 
and he made a very good meal. Then Peggy 
was gently wakened by her little mistress. She 
never liked to be roused suddenly; it startled 
her, and of course Maggie knew this. So she 
gave her a kiss, and touched her very gently, then 
lifted her up, and Peggy at once opened her 
eyes, and seemed quite surprised to find herself 
in the hay-field instead of in the nursery at home. 

Mother next called them to tea. A cloth was 
spread on the ground, and the tea and cups and 
saucers and cakes and bread and butter were all 
arranged ready. 

After tea Mother played with them. They 
had a regular hay fight. They tossed the hay 
all over one another, and had such fun. 

Then they made a big haycock, and they put 
Peggy and Dibs on the top. 

By that time it was six o’clock, which was 
bed-time, so they collected their belongings and 
went home. 

“It has been a lovely picnic,” said Rosie. 

“Yes, it has,” said all the others. 

Peggy and Dibs said nothing; but they looked 
happy, and I think they enjoyed it as much as 
the children. 


67 


Cyril 



YRIL was an only child. He often 


wished he had some brothers and sisters 


^ — * to play with; but his mother told him 
that it was no use wishing for things he had not 
got, and that he must learn to amuse himself. 
I am sorry to say that he was rather a trouble- 
some boy sometimes ; he thought too much about 
his food; he often spoke at meal-times about 
what he liked to eat, and what he didn’t. Up 
to the present he had had most of his meals in 
the nursery, so his father and mother did not 
know that their little boy was in danger of grow- 
ing up greedy and dainty. 

But now the time had come when he was to 
go to a day-school. His nurse had just left, and 
Cyril was to begin having meals in the dining- 
room. He was pleased about this. He washed 
his face and hands very carefully the first time 
he was to go down to dinner, and was on his very 
best behavior. But, alas! when the pudding was 
brought in trouble began. 

“Is it rice pudding again?” he asked. 

Nobody answered him. 

“I hope it isn’t rice ” he said, thinking no one 
had heard him. 


68 


Cyril 

“Cyril, are you talking about the food that 
is on the table?” said his father. “Because if 
you are, stop at once. Gentlemen do not talk 
about their food at meal-times.” 

Cyril was silent. It was not often that his 
father spoke so sharply. 

At tea-time there was trouble again. It was 
his mother who spoke this time. “Cyril, why 
are you taking cake when you have some bread 
and butter still on your plate?” 

“Oh, those are crusts, Mother. I never eat 
crusts.” 

“You never eat crusts!” 

“No, Mother, never.” 

“Then you must begin now. Crusts are splen- 
did for your teeth, and I cannot allow you to 
leave them any more.” 

After tea Mother said that Cyril had better 
practice his writing a little, so he got out his 
copybook and Mother set him a copy to write. 
He was seven years old and he could write words 
quite nicely now — he could make all his capital 
letters, as well as the small ones. This was the 
copy Mother set him to write: “Little boys 
must eat their crusts”; and then she set him an- 
other, which was this: “I must not talk about 
my food at meal-times.” 

When he had written both copies neatly he 
showed them to his mother. “I know why you 
gave me those words to write, Mother.” 

69 


Everyday Stories 

“Do you?” said Mother. “Then I need say 
no more. Will you try to remember them, Cy- 
ril?” 

“Yes, I will try,” he said. 

The next day he remembered so well that he 
never once talked about his food, and he ate 
his crusts without a murmur. 

The day after that was a great day in his 
life, for he was to go to school for the first time. 
He had done some lessons with his mother at 
home up to this time; he could read a little and 
write, and he could do easy sums. It was ar- 
ranged that he should have dinner at school in 
the middle of the day. Several of the boys did 
that, as the school was rather a long way off 
from some of the homes. 

His mother took him the first morning. On 
the way there she said: “Two things I want 
you specially to remember, Cyril. The first is, 
don’t talk about your food, but eat whatever is 
given you. And the second thing is, you must 
learn to bear being teased. The other boys are 
sure to tease you sometimes, but you must not 
get cross or sulky; it won’t hurt you really, and 
you must learn to bear it with a good temper.” 

Cyril liked school. His mother had taught 
him well, and he was not much behind other 
boys of his age. Indeed he could write better 
than some in his class. He made up his mind 
that whatever happened in the play-ground he 
70 


Cyril 

would not lose his temper, and so he soon made 
some friends. At dinner-time too he got on 
well. He was too shy at first to make any re- 
marks at all, so of course he didn’t talk about 
his food. But after a few days the shyness wore 
off; he talked to the boys who sat near him, and 
one day he quite forgot his good resolutions. 

“I say, Georgie,” he said to the boy on his 
right-hand side, “what a shame it is that they 
give us baked apples so often. If there is one 
thing I do dislike it is baked apples.” 

He had spoken more loudly than he knew, 
and the master, who was sitting at the head of 
the table, heard him. 

“Cyril,” he said, “I see you don’t know all 
the rules of the school yet. Come to me after 
dinner, and I will tell you what I mean.” 

Poor Cyril felt very uncomfortable. All the 
boys at the table were looking at him. 

After dinner he went to the master’s room. 
“I only just wanted to tell you, Cyril,” he said 
kindly, “that you had better not make any re- 
marks about what is given you to eat at dinner. 
It isn’t polite.” 

“All right, sir ; I will try to remember,” he said. 

And he really did try. Some months later, 
when he went to pay a visit to some cousins, 
they found him so improved that one said to 
another: “I say, Will, Cyril is quite a decent 
little chap now.” 


7 1 


Spot 

I AM going to tell you about my dog. But 
first perhaps I ought to tell you who I 
am. I am a boy, and my name is Harold. 
I don’t care for the name of Harold, but when 
I was a baby they gave me the name because 
it was a favorite of Mother’s. I think she had 
a brother Harold. I am eight. I have wanted 
a dog for years , a dog of my very own, and now 
at last I have one. Father has given him to me 
as a birthday present. It was my birthday a 
month ago ; that was the day I was eight. 

Father said, when he gave Spot to me, that 
he had been well trained, and that I must not 
spoil him. We got some dog biscuits for him. 
They are hard biscuits, but the hardness is good 
for Spot’s teeth. He has lovely white teeth. 
He is a very obedient dog. You have only to 
tell him to do a thing once, and he does it di- 
rectly. Of course you have to speak pretty 
firmly to him; that is to make him understand 
that you mean it. When I say, “Basket, Spot,” 
he goes to his basket where he sleeps. It has 
a little bit of matting in it, just to make it com- 
fortable for him. It is a large round basket; 
we bought it on purpose for him. He sleeps in 

72 


Spot 

it in the kitchen at night. I forgot that I 
hadn’t told you what kind of a dog he is. He 
is a fox-terrier — rather a small one, but I like 
him all the better for being small. He is white, 
with just one black mark on him. We call him 
“Spot” because of this one black mark. It is 
like a big spot. We didn’t really choose the 
name for him; the man who sold him to Father 
said his name was Spot, and we feel sure that he 
was right. 

I wish you could see his face. Everybody 
says : “What beautiful eyes he has !” He looks 
up at you as if he knew and understood all you 
said. Father said one day that he was the most 
intelligent dog he had ever seen. I asked him 
what “intelligent” meant, and he said it meant 
clever and sensible. 

I must tell you now about his bath. Every 
Saturday morning he has his bath. We use an 
old foot-bath for him. The gardener really 
washes him, but I always help. I hold him 
still. He doesn’t like being in the water very 
much. Sometimes he pretends he doesn’t hear 
when we tell him the bath is ready. I call out : 
“Come here, Spot; bath-time.” I am sure he 
knows quite well what I mean. I told you how 
obedient he always is. Well, I ought to have 
said nearly always, for I must say that he is some- 
times a little troublesome on bath days. One 
morning, when I said, “Bath-time!” he put his 
73 


Everyday Stories 

tail between his legs and slunk away under the 
table, and he wouldn't come out for a long time. 
However, he did at last, and we popped him 
into the water in less than no time! He does 
look so nice when he is clean and dry again. 
We never let him get really dirty, though. We 
keep a brush for him and give him a good brush- 
ing every day. 

He can do lots of tricks. He learned them 
before he came to us, but I am going to try 
to teach him some more. One of the things he 
can do is this: we call out, “Dead!” and he 
lies down on the floor perfectly still; then we 
say, “Alive again!” and he jumps up and wags 
his tail. 

One day we were having tea in the drawing- 
room and some ladies called. Spot was in the 
room. He never bothers us at meal-times; he 
just lies down on the hearthrug. I said to one 
of the ladies: “Would you like to see Spot 
do a trick?” and she said she would. So I got 
a bit of cake and called Spot to come to me. 
He jumped up at once, and looked up at me with 
his dear eyes as much as to say, “What is it 
now?” I put the cake on his nose and said, 
“Trust!” and he never moved or tried to eat it. 
Then I said, “Paid for!” and he tossed it up 
in the air and caught it so cleverly in his mouth. 
He knows that “Paid for” means that he is al- 
lowed to have the food. 


74 


Spot 

Sometimes we give him a bone to gnaw. He 
likes that very much. It does his teeth good 
to bite a hard bone. I must tell you what he did 
with it one night. First, though, I must ex- 
plain about something else, or you won’t under- 
stand what T mean. The basket where the silver 
is kept — that is, all the spoons and forks — is 
taken up to Mother’s bedroom at night. Father 
said: “I think we might teach Spot to carry 
the silver basket up.” So we did. It took him 
several nights to understand quite well what we 
wanted, but he really learned very quickly, 
considering that he is only a dog and not a 
person. 

Well, one night, just when it was time for him 
to carry up the silver basket, somebody had given 
him a bone. He was enjoying it very much and 
did not want to be troubled with the basket just 
then. Father called out: “Take up the silver, 
Spot!” Poor Spot, he was so enjoying his bone! 
But Father called out again: “Spot, take up 
the silver!” So what do you think the clever 
little dog did? He laid the bone carefully down 
in the basket, and then, getting the handle be- 
tween his teeth as usual, he carried the whole up- 
stairs! 

“Mother,” I said one day, “don’t you think 
the basket is too heavy for Spot? He is only 
a little dog.” 

But Mother said: “No, I don’t think so. I 
75 


Everyday Stories 

only keep a little silver in it, and the basket is 
small.” 

Sometimes I go away to stay with my Aunt and 
Uncle. Mother says Spot does miss me so much. 
He is quite miserable for a day or two after I 
have gone. He is so loving. When I come 
home again he jumps up at me, and wags his tail 
and barks with delight. I don’t know what we 
should do without dear Spot. I hope he will 
live for many, many years. When he is very 
old and cannot do his tricks, I shall take great 
care of him, and be very kind to him. 


76 


The Picnic 

O NCE upon a time there lived two little 
children named Phyllis and Jack. 
Phyllis was eight and Jack was four. 
Their father was a clergyman, and they lived 
in the country. Their house was not a very 
large one, but it was surrounded by a beautiful 
old-fashioned garden. At the bottom of the 
garden was a stream. Phyllis and Jack loved 
this stream. It was not very deep. In the sum- 
mer, on nice fine days, they used to take their 
two boats and let them float on the water; and 
they used to pretend that they were having a 
boat race. Sometimes Phyllis’ boat would win, 
and sometimes Jack’s. 

Jack got rather cross sometimes if his did not 
win. 

“It’s too bad, Phyllis; you ought to let mine 
win.” 

“Why, you silly boy, Jackie, I don’t make it 
win; it wins all by itself. We started quite 
fair.” 

“I want mine to win always.” 

“There wouldn’t be any fun if the same boat 
always won. I suppose it’s because you’re so 
little that you are so silly sometimes.” 

77 


Everyday Stories 

“I’m not little, I’m a big boy, and I’m not 
silly.” 

Jackie tried to make himself look as tall as 
possible as he said this; he frowned and stared 
so hard at Phyllis that she could not help laugh- 
ing. This made Jackie laugh too. His bad 
temper never lasted long. 

“Jackie,” said Phyllis, “do you remember 
what is going to happen this afternoon?” 

“No; what is it?” said Jackie. 

“The picnic.” 

“I’ve never been to a picnic before.” 

“No, you haven’t. A picnic’s lovely . You 
have tea out of doors, after you’ve boiled the 
kettle, of course — I mean after you’ve got the 
sticks; and then you all sit down on the grass 
and have tea, then you wash the tea things with 
water from the river, then you get flowers and 
bring them to Mother, then you play games.” 

After lunch that day Mother said: “Now, 
Jackie, you go and lie down for half an hour, and 
Phyllis, you must do some piano practice.” 

Jackie trotted upstairs, took off his shoes, and 
climbed into his little bed. He was used to do- 
ing things for himself, for they had no nurse. 
If, when he was dressing in the mornings, he 
came across any very awkward tape or button, 
Phyllis always helped him; but he was really a 
clever little boy in the way he managed, and he 
would have been quite ashamed if anybody had 

78 


The Picnic 

had to lift him into bed, or to take off his shoes 
for him. He lay very still that day after dinner ; 
he knew his mother liked him to keep still when 
he was having his rest, and he knew Phyllis 
would come to tell him when it was time to get 
up. 

Presently he heard her coming. 

“Get up, Jackie,” she said. 

“Is it picnic time,” he asked her . 

“Yes; get your hat, and be quick now, for 
the pony carriage is nearly ready. I’ve seen 
John putting the harness on Joey.” 

Joey was the pony. He was fat and rather 
lazy, and never hurried himself for anybody; 
but they all loved him. He seemed extra lazy 
to-day. 

“Really, Joey, I never did see any pony go 
so slowly as you,” said Phyllis. “I believe you 
eat too much.” 

“He wouldn’t do to run in a pony race,” said 
Jackie. 

“No, indeed,” said Mother. 

“He could win, if it was the slowest who 
won,” said Phyllis. 

Mother was obliged to give him just a gentle 
touch of the whip once. After that he did go 
a little faster, and at last they reached the 
wood. 

It was June, and the wild strawberries were 
ripe. Mother told the children to get some. 

79 


Everyday Stories 

Jackie had never seen wild strawberries before; 
Phyllis showed him how to pick them, and soon 
they had quite a nice plateful to take to Mother, 
who was reading under a shady tree. 

“May we get the sticks for the fire now, 
Mother?” 

“Yes; go and get a good armful each, and 
then we will light the fire.” 

Off they ran, and they soon returned with two 
good bundles. They lighted a splendid fire. 
The wood was beautifully dry, and made such a 
nice crackling noise. Then Phyllis ran to the 
little river which was close by to fill the kettle, 
but Mother stopped her, saying she had brought 
some water in a bottle, as she thought the river 
water might not be wholesome to drink. The 
little kettle soon boiled. Then Mother made 
the tea, and Phyllis and Jackie laid the cloth. 
Soon all was ready. The wild strawberries 
made quite a little patch of color on the white 
cloth, and looked so pretty. How they did en- 
joy their tea! Everything seemed to taste nicer 
than it generally did! 

After tea came the washing up and the pack- 
ing of the basket again. Then Mother took 
out her book once more and began to read, and 
Phyllis and Jackie played hide-and-seek. The 
wood was a lovely place for hide-and-seek. 
There were all sorts of odd little places where no 
one would think of finding you, and where you 
80 


The Picnic 


could spring out on the one who was seeking. 
Jackie generally hid behind a tree; he was not 
very quick in thinking of good places. Phyllis 
had not much difficulty in finding him as a rule, 
for after he had called, “Cuckoo!” he could not 
help peeping round the tree to see if she was 
coming! 

When they had played hide-and-seek for some 
time, they felt rather hot and tired, so they ran 
back to Mother to have a little rest. 

“Oh, we haven’t got any flowers,” said Jackie. 
“You said that was part of the picnic, 
Phyllis.” 

“Yes, so it is generally,” said Phyllis. 

“You might get some daisies; they are so 
pretty,” said Mother. 

So they set to work, and each got a bunch of 
the lovely daisies. 

“You have mine, Mother,” said Jackie. 

“Oh, thank you, darling; they are pretty.” 

“And I will take mine home to Father,” said 
Phyllis. 

“Now,” said Mother, “we must be going 
home. Let us put Joey into the carriage again.” 

Joey, who had been eating away to his heart’s 
content, seemed quite ready to go home ; he knew 
it meant a stable and a good night’s rest for him, 
and as long as he had plenty to eat and plenty 
of sleep he was happy. There really never was 
such a fat, lazy little pony! However, he was 
81 


Everyday Stories 

growing old, and he had worked hard when he 
was young, so nobody scolded him. 

Mother bathed Jackie and put him to bed 
when they got home, and Phyllis was soon ready 
for bed too. 


Christmas Presents 

“^“^HRISTMAS will soon be here,” said 

1 . Mother one day as she looked round the 

breakfast-table at her four children. 
“It is time that you began to think about making 
your presents, if you are going to get any ready 
this year.” 

The three elder children always made some- 
thing for each other for a Christmas present, and 
something for Father and Mother too. They 
began many weeks beforehand, for they had to 
make most of the things when nobody else was 
looking. They liked the presents to be secrets. 
Mother generally helped them to decide what to 
make. “Can we begin to-day, Mother?” said 
Rex, the eldest boy. “I know what I am going 
to make for everybody; but I sha’n’t tell.” 

Rex was eight. He had a box of paints of 
his own, and he had decided to draw some pic- 
tures on cardboard and color them; then he was 
going to cut the cardboard into neat squares and 
make two little holes in the top of each to put 
ribbon through, so that the pictures could be 
hung up. 

May was seven. She had lately learned to 
knit. She had bought herself two wooden knit- 

83 


Everyday Stories 

ting needles and some red wool with pennies 
which she had saved up. 

“I know too what I am going to make,” she 
said. “So you needn’t help me to make up my 
mind, Mother. Oh yes, though, you must. For 
I only know what I am going to make for you. 
I don’t know about my other presents yet.” 

May had decided to make a kettle-holder for 
her mother. She couldn’t start the knitting her- 
self; she was obliged to get her mother to cast 
on the stitches; but Mother didn’t know what 
she was going to make. 

Presently she got some red wool which had 
been lying in her work-basket till she could make 
up her mind what to do with it. 

“Please, Mother dear, would you put me 
twenty stitches on; but don't ask what I am go- 
ing to make, will you?” 

“No, I won’t ask,” said Mother. 

Every day May did a few rows of knitting, 
till she had made a square. She always asked 
Mother not to look at what she was doing. She 
did not mind the other children seeing. Cook 
finished it off for her, and stitched a little rib- 
bon loop on one corner, so that it could be hung 
up on the wall. When it was finished she 
counted her pennies that she had been saving up 
on purpose for presents. She found she had 
three. With one of them she bought some 
bright-colored wool. It is hard to say exactly 
84 


Christmas Presents 

what color it was, for it was of many colors; it 
began with red and shaded off into blue and 
green and yellow and white. The woman in the 
shop called it some long name that sounded like 
“variegated” and said it made into very pretty 
balls. With another penny she bought a box of 
paints, and with the third she got some milk 
chocolate. On the way home she wanted very 
much to eat just a little bit of the chocolate — 
quite a tiny bit would do, just to see if it was 
really nice! But she thought it would never do 
for her to eat part of a Christmas present she 
was planning for somebody else! So she put 
the little paper bag into her pocket and made up 
her mind not to look at it. She was a sensible 
little girl; for putting it in her pocket made her 
forget that she wanted to eat it. 

She made a pretty ball with cardboard and 
the colored wool for Nora, who was six. She 
painted a picture for Dick, who was five. And 
for Rex she made a little paper basket with strips 
of colored paper, and put the chocolate into it. 
So her presents were all ready. 

The difficulty had been to manage that the 
others should not see what was being made. It 
was cold in the bedrooms without a fire; but still 
she had often sat there for half an hour at a time 
busy with her “secrets.” 

Nora was not able to make many things, as she 
was only six. She asked Mother’s advice. 

85 


Everyday Stories 

“I think,” said Mother, “that you might make 
some necklaces with your colored beads. You 
could do them quite by yourself, couldn’t you?” 

“Yes, that would do, I think,” said Nora. 
“But what about Father and Rex? Boys and 
men don’t wear necklaces.” 

“No, I forgot that. Let me see. Could you 
write Father a letter in printing letters, and 
paint a robin and some holly on the top of the 
paper? I am sure he would like that.” 

“Yes, that would do for Father. But what 
shall I do for Rex?” 

“Have you kept your penny that I gave you 
last week?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, suppose you buy a nice lead pencil 
for Rex. He is so fond of drawing. I think 
he would like a pencil very much.” 

“Yes, I will.” 

At last Christmas Day came. It was bright 
and frosty — just the sort of day we like to have 
for Christmas. The children woke early, and 
they began thinking about their presents; but 
the rule in that household was, breakfast first, 
and then presents. When they were dressed, 
they found that Father and Mother had already 
been to church. 

“Why do you go to church on Christmas Day, 
Mother?” asked May. 

“Because Christmas Day is the birthday of our 

86 


Christmas Presents 

Lord Jesus Christ, and we go to worship Him. 
I shall take you all with me this afternoon, and 
you will hear the carols.” 

After breakfast there was great fun and ex- 
citement over the presents. There were parcels 
on everybody’s plate, and nobody knew what was 
inside them till they were opened. I have not 
told you what all the things were, because it 
would take too long; but there were parcels for 
the servants, and there was something for the 
gardener’s little blind boy. I must just tell you 
what this was, before the story comes to an end. 
It was a little musical box which played four 
tunes. The children had bought it with their 
own money. 

In the afternoon Mother took them to the 
Carol Service at church, and there they heard 
about the first Christmas Day of all, when the 
Holy Child, Jesus, was born, long, long ago. 


87 


Poor Charlie 

O NCE upon a time there was a little boy 
named Charlie. He was lame* He 
had had a fall when he was a baby, and 
somehow hurt his leg. His father and mother 
were very poor people; they could not afford 
to buy him any crutches to walk with. Indeed, 
they were so poor that sometimes Charlie did 
not get enough to eat. Every now and then 
Charlie walked just a very little way down the 
street in which he lived, but it hurt his leg to 
go far, so he spent most of his time sitting on 
the doorstep. There was not much for him to 
see, poor little fellow. The street was narrow, 
and generally dirty. But there was one thing he 
did enjoy, and that was the hand-organ which 
came round every Wednesday. A boy with 
rather a brown skin and very dark eyes used to 
play it; he was an Italian. A dear little donkey 
drew the organ along the road. Whenever 
Charlie felt well enough, he would limp up to 
the donkey and pat it. Sometimes the organ 
boy played an extra tune, just to give pleasure to 
the little lame boy. 

One day a doctor, who often drove down the 
street to see some of his patients, stopped his 
88 


Poor Charlie 


carriage next door to Charlie’s house. The 
doctor drove the horse himself, and on the seat 
at the back sat two little children, a boy of seven 
and a girl of six. They were carefully strapped 
in, so that they could not fall out. They sat 
with their backs to their father. This was the 
first time that they had been out with the doctor 
when he was visiting his sick people. 

When the carriage stopped, they noticed Char- 
lie sitting on the doorstep. They thought what 
a nice little face he had. 

“Do you see that boy sitting on the door- 
step?” said Bernard, the doctor’s little boy. 

“Yes,” answered Elsie (for that was the little 
girl’s name). 

“I wonder why he sits so still? He must be 
cold.” 

Presently their father came out of the house 
he had been visiting. 

“Do look at that poor boy, Father,” said Bern- 
ard. 

“He is lame,” said the doctor. “I have seen 
him before, and I am afraid his leg often hurts 
him.” 

“Couldn’t you make him well?” 

“No, I am afraid his lameness is something I 
can’t cure.” 

Then the doctor nodded and smiled to Charlie, 
and said: “How does the leg feel this morn- 
ing?” 


89 


Everyday Stories 

“It hurts a good deal, thank you, sir,” said 
Charlie. 

“Have you any books or toys to amuse you?” 
said the doctor. 

“No, sir.” 

Then the carriage drove on, but Bernard and 
Elsie could not forget the sight of poor little 
Charlie’s sad face. They kept talking to each 
other about him. At last Elsie said : 

“Couldn’t we give him something of ours?” 

“Yes, we will,” said Bernard. 

“What shall it be?” asked Elsie. 

“When we get home we will look at all our 
books and things and find something.” 

“I wonder if he can read.” 

“We don’t know how old he is, do we?” said 
Bernard. “It’s no good giving him a book if 
he can’t read.” 

When the children got home, they turned out 
all their toys and picture-books and began con- 
sidering what Charlie would like best. 

“A book with pictures in would do, even if 
he can’t read,” said Elsie. 

“I know,” said Bernard. “Let’s give him 
your musical box.” 

“Oh, Bernard, my nice new musical box!” 
said Elsie, rather sadly. She felt as if she 
could not bear to give that away. She had 
only had it a week, and it played such lovely 
tunes. 


90 


Poor Charlie 

“I think he would love to hear the tunes,” 
said Bernard. 

Elsie was silent for a minute. She really 
wanted to make poor little Charlie happy, and 
yet she wanted to keep her musical box. At last 
she said: “Why shouldn’t we give him some- 
thing of yours?” 

“I will give him something of mine too.” 

At that moment their mother came into the 
nursery. The children told her all about the 
little lame boy, and asked her what she thought 
they could give him. 

“Well, it is no good giving him a ball or skates 
or anything of that sort, if he cannot run about 
and play,” said Mother. 

“No, it isn’t,” the children agreed. 

Then Elsie suddenly said : 

“Mother, do you think I ought to give him my 
musical box?” 

“I think you must decide, dear,” said Mother. 
“I think i t would be very kind if you gave 
that, because I know you like it yourself so 
much.” 

“Wouldn’t it be as kind if I gave him some old 
toy I don’t want?” 

“No, it wouldn’t really be as kind.” 

Elsie thought for a minute, and then she said : 

“Well, I should like to be really kind, so I 
will give him my musical box, because that is my 
favorite plaything.” 


91 


Everyday Stories 

“And what arc you going to give him, Bern- 
ard?” said Mother. 

“I will try to think of something really nice 
too,” said Bernard. 

“Wouldn’t your knife with two blades do?” 
said Elsie. 

“But he might cut himself, for he is only a 
little boy,” answered Bernard. “Don’t you 
think so, Mother?” 

“Yes, I hardly think the knife would do.” 

“I know,” said Bernard, “my box of soldiers; 
he would like that.” 

“Yes, I think that would do nicely,” said 
Mother. 

“That would be real kindness, wouldn’t it, 
Mother?” 

“Yes, darling, it would; because I know you 
love your soldiers.” 

The next morning, Mother, Bernard, and 
Elsie went to Charlie’s house. They found him 
sitting on the doorstep as usual. They had their 
presents neatly wrapped up in brown paper par- 
cels. Mother said: “Good morning, Charlie. 
My little boy and girl have brought you some 
presents. Would you like to open the parcels 
now?” 

Charlie was so surprised that he could hardly 
speak. He took the packages and opened them, 
and when he saw what was inside oh, how de- 
lighted he was! He hardly knew which present 

92 


Poor Charlie 

he liked best. He tried to thank Bernard and 
Elsie, but he felt too shy to say much. 

After his visitors had gone, Charlie wound 
up the musical box, and it played so prettily. 
It quite made him forget the pain in his leg, 
which had been extra bad that morning. Then 
he set out the soldiers, and played a long time 
with them. Bernard and Elsie had certainly 
made one child happy that day. 

Next Sunday, when they were having a lesson 
from Mother out of their Sunday book, they 
learned how our Lord Jesus Christ was con- 
stantly doing kind things for people and how 
He wants us to do the same, and Elsie said: 

“Was our Lord pleased, do you think, Mother, 
when we gave Charlie those presents?” 

And her mother answered: “Yes, I am sure 
He was, darling.” 


93 


The New Baby 


WO little boys sat at the nursery table 



one morning in December. They were 


eating biscuits for lunch, and sharing a 
glass of milk between them. They were dressed 
exactly alike, in dark blue jerseys, dark blue 
knickerbockers, and lighter blue overalls. The 
name of the elder boy, who was six, was Brian, 
and the young one, who was five, was Edward. 

“Keep to your side of the glass, when you 
drink,” said Brian. “I don’t like drinking from 
the same place as you.” 

“I are keeping to my side,” said Edward. 
“I wish they had brought us up two glasses. 
Why didn’t they?” 

“How should I know? I can’t tell why they 
do things in the kitchen, when I am not there 
to see.” 

The reason really was that one glass had been 
broken by the maid who was carrying the lunch 
up to the nursery. She caught her foot in some- 
thing as she was coming upstairs, and down went 
one tumbler, and all the milk in it was spilt. 
She just managed to save the other one. Cook 
said she could spare no more milk that morn- 
ing and that the little boys must share what was 


left. 


94 


The New Baby 

They had just finished lunch when Nurse came 
into the nursery. 

“I have a secret for you,” she said. 

“Let’s guess,” said Brian. 

“Yes, you first, Brian.” 

“A ride with Father on Black Bess?” Black 
Bess was the horse that their father rode, and 
sometimes, for a great treat, he let the little boys, 
in turn, have a ride with him; they sat on the 
saddle just in front of him. 

“No,” said Nurse. 

Edward, who was never very quick at guess- 
ing, could think of nothing for the minute. 

“Oh, do hurry up, Edward, or I shall have 
another guess.” 

“No, that wouldn’t be fair.” 

“Well, hurry up, then, quick.” 

“Is it for us to have tea with Mother in the 
drawing-room?” 

“No,” said Nurse again. 

“Tell us, Nurse, will you?” said Brian. 

“It is the new baby! It has really come — 
the baby sister you wanted so much!” 

“A baby sister! Oh, Nurse!” 

“May we see it now?” said Edward. 

“Yes, you may come just for a minute. You 
must be very quiet and gentle, for Mother is not 
well.” 

The little boys had their faces and hands 
washed (Brian washed his own), and then they 

95 


Everyday Stories 

followed Nurse into their mother’s bedroom. 

Mother was lying back in bed, wearing a very 
pretty blue dressing-jacket, and by the side of 
her was the dearest little baby girl! 

The boys kissed their mother’s hand, and Ed- 
ward, kneeling up on a chair by the side of the 
bed, stroked her face. 

“Are you sick, Mother?” he said. 

“Yes, dear, but I shall soon be well again.” 

“How do you know?” he asked. 

“Oh, I think I shall,” she answered. 

“Do let us look at the baby again,” said Brian. 
“May we take it out of bed?” 

“Nurse shall show her to you,” said Mother. 

So Nurse took the baby out. Such a little 
soft, white bundle she looked! 

“May we kiss her?” asked Edward. 

“Yes, kiss her little cheek very gently,” said 
Mother. 

The little boys each gave her a kiss, then they 
took hold of the tiny hands. 

“Oh, do look what weeny , weeny fingers,” 
said Brian. “Let us see her little toes, Nurse, 
may we?” 

So Nurse showed them the little pink feet, 
with the ten tiny toes. 

“She has ten toes, just like we have,” said 
Edward. 

“Why, of course she has, Edward,” said Brian. 
“All babies have.” 


96 


The New Baby 

“Why?” said Edward. 

Then they all laughed (except the baby!), for 
it was a joke against Edward that he was al- 
ways asking “Why.” 

“How many toes would you like her to have?” 
said Nurse. 

Edward didn’t answer. 

All this time Baby was asleep. 

“I wish she would open her eyes,” said Ed- 
ward. 

Just at that moment, as if she had heard what 
was said, Baby did open them. She had such 
pretty blue eyes. 

Every day the two little boys came in to see 
Mother and the new baby, till, at last, Mother 
was well enough to come downstairs again. 
After that, Baby was often in the cradle in the 
nursery. The cradle was placed on two chairs 
near a wall, so that the boys, in their games, 
could not knock it over. 

One day both Mother and Nurse were busy, 
and Brian and Edward were left in charge of 
Baby. 

“She will be all right, I think,” said Mother, 
as she left the room. “She is fast asleep. You 
can go on playing.” 

But Edward did not feel as if they would be 
taking care of her if they went on playing. So 
he stopped building with his bricks, and went 
and stood by the cradle. He got hold of one of 

97 


Everyday Stories 

Baby’s tiny hands and held it in his. He was 
almost afraid he had wakened her for a mo- 
ment; but no, she just stirred a little and then 
went fast asleep again. 

“Now it is my turn to look after her,” said 
Brian. 

So he came and took hold of the little hand. 
For a quarter of an hour he stood there, and 
that is a long time to stand quite still. Then 
Baby began to move about a little, and then she 
began to cry. The boys did not know what to 
do. 

“I say, Edward, what can we do to amuse 
her?” 

“I know,” said Edward. “I will show her a 
picture-book.” 

“All right. Get one quick!” 

Edward fetched a book, but it made no dif- 
ference to Baby. She cried more and more. 

Edward was nearly crying himself by this 
time. 

“Shall I fetch Mother?” he said. 

“Yes, I think you had better. I don’t know 
what to do. Oh, I know: I’ll put my finger in 
her mouth. Perhaps she’ll think it’s her bot- 
tle.” 

So Brian gave her his finger to suck. Luck- 
ily it was clean! Baby sucked violently, and at 
once stopped crying. 

“You’d better fetch Mother quickly, all the 

98 


The New Baby 

same/’ said Brian. “She may begin again any 
minute, and besides, it’s not very nice for me; 
I don’t like the feel of Baby’s mouth.” 

Fortunately, at that minute Mother came into 
the room. She laughed when she saw how 
Baby’s crying had been stopped. 

“She is hungry,” said Mother. “It is her 
dinner-time.” 

“I didn’t much like having my finger sucked,” 
said Brian. 

“No,” laughed Mother. “It’s not very pleas- 
ant.” 

In the afternoon the little brothers had a treat. 
Father gave them each a penny to spend. They 
were a long time making up their minds what to 
buy. These were the first pennies they had had 
since Baby was born, and they both wanted to 
buy something for her. At last, after a great 
deal of planning, they decided what to get. 
Brian bought her some narrow pale blue ribbon 
to tie round her sleeves — just on her little wrists 
— and Edward bought her an india-rubber dog 
which squeaked when you pinched it. 

They brought the two little parcels to Mother, 
who said she felt sure Baby would say “Thank 
you” if she could speak. Then they put the 
ribbon into one of Baby’s hands and the dog into 
the other; but she had no sooner got them in her 
tiny fingers before she began to try to cram them 
into her mouth. 


99 


Everyday Stories 

“Oh, Baby, they are not for you to eat,” said 
Edward, laughing. 

By degrees Baby grew big and strong. The 
little boys were never tired of waiting on her. 
In time she stopped being a baby altogether, and 
grew into u a little girl,” as Edward said. 
Father told Brian that he and Edward must 
always be very kind and gentle to their little 
sister and take great care of her, for she was 
much younger than they were, and boys always 
had to take care of girls, as gentlemen take care 
of ladies. 

They said they would try, and they did. 


The Snow-Man 

I T was snowing fast. Already the ground was 
covered with the beautiful white snow, and 
still the soft flakes were falling. 

Three little faces looked from the nursery 
window. 

“I wish we might open the window and catch 
the snow in our hands,” said Edith. 

“Oh, you mustn’t,” said Mabel. 

“I didn’t say I was going to; I said I wished 
we might,” answered Edith. 

“I wish we might go out,” said Geoffrey. 
“Well, it’s no good wishing all sorts of things,” 
said Mabel, who was the eldest of the three. 
“We’ve all got colds, and we’ve got to stay in, so 
there’s an end of it.” 

“Oh, but I do know what I wish,” cried Geof- 
frey. 

“Well, what?” said the other two. They 
thought, by the tone of Geoffrey’s voice, and by 
his look of excitement, that it must be some- 
thing nice. 

“I wish,” said he, “that Bob would make us 
a snow-man in the garden, just down on the 
lawn there, where we could see it. Wouldn’t 
that be fun?” 


IOI 


Everyday Stories 

“Yes, that would be lovely,” said Edith. 
“You go and ask him, Geoffrey.” 

“All right, I will. Shall I say we all want 
him to, very much?” 

“Yes, you can say that,” said Mabel. 

So Geoffrey went downstairs and found Bob, 
their big boy cousin who was staying in the 
house. “Bob,” he said, “we all three want you 
to do something.” 

“Well, what is it now?” said Bob, smiling. 
“Do you all three want a ride on my back at 
once?” 

“No, it is something nicer than that. I mean 
nicer when there is snow.” 

“You’ll have to tell me, for it sounds mysteri- 
ous.” 

“It’s a snow-man. Will you make us one, 
where we can see it from the nursery windows?” 

“Right you are,” said Bob. 

The two little girls were waiting eagerly at 
the nursery door to hear what Geoffrey had to 
say. They were delighted when he came back 
saying, “Yes, he’ll do it.” 

They all arranged themselves close to the win- 
dow. 

“I wonder if Pussy would like to see too,” said 
Edith, running to the hearthrug and lifting up 
a small black kitten. “Would you, Pussy?” 

But the kitten was too fidgety; she wouldn’t 
keep still a moment, so she was put down again. 

102 


The Snow-Man 

They heard the front door open, and shut 
again with a bang, and then they saw Bob. He 
looked up to the window and waved to them. 

Then he began. He first made a ball of snow ; 
then he rolled it along the lawn, and fresh snow 
kept sticking to it till it became quite big. 
Every now and then he shaped it with his hands 
to keep it from getting too round. He wanted 
to make it like a very thick rolling-pin. He 
worked hard at it, rolling and pushing, and at 
last he stood it up on end. 

“It doesn’t look much like a man,” said Geof- 
frey, rather disappointed. 

“You wait and see,” said Mabel. “You’re too 
impatient, Geoffrey.” She had seen a snow-man 
before, and she knew it took time to make it. 

“It looks rather like a person’s body without 
any head or arms,” said Edith. 

Then they watched awhile in silence. 

Bob made a big ball of snow next, and stuck 
it on to the other great lump of snow. The ball 
was meant for the head. After that he ran into 
the house for a moment, and when he came out 
again they saw that he had some small pieces of 
coal in his hand. These he stuck on to the 
face — two for eyes, one rather long-shaped piece 
for the nose, and another piece for the mouth. 
The black coal showed up splendidly against 
the white snow. The snow-man began to look 
real now. 


103 


Everyday Stories 

“Oh, isn’t it lovely?” said Geoffrey. 

The next thing that Cousin Bob did was to 
get two sticks. These he covered with snow. 
Then he stuck them one on each side of the 
snow-man, and they looked just like arms. 
After that he disappeared into the house again 
for a minute, and when he came out he had an 
old hat in his hand. This of course he put on 
the snow-man’s head. Then he ran indoors 
again and brought out some more small bits of 
coal. These he stuck down the front of the 
man’s body, and they looked just like buttons. 

“I think he must really be finished now,” said 
Edith. But he wasn’t quite. 

In another minute Bob rushed up to the nurs- 
ery and said he wanted to borrow one of the 
pipes which the children had for blowing soap 
bubbles. 

“What do you want it for?” asked little Geof- 
frey. 

“You’ll see when I get down again,” said 
Bob. 

“I know,” said Mabel. “You are going to 
stick it on to the snow-man’s face, and make him 
look as if he were smoking.” 

And so he was. When this was done the man 
was finished. He did look so real. 

About an hour later Mother came in from a 
walk. She did laugh when she saw the funny 
figure in the garden. The children waved to 

104 


The Snow-Man 


her from the nursery window and pointed to 
the snow-man, and she waved back. Then she 
took off the man’s hat and waved it to them, as 
much as to say, “He is saying ‘Good morning’ 
to you.” 


Feeding the Birds 

O NCE upon a time two little boys stood 
at the nursery window watching the 
snow. It was winter, and the ground 
was white, for it had been snowing most of the 
day, and now it was nearly four o’clock in the 
afternoon. 

“It is getting dark,” said Leslie. 

“Yes,” said Jim, “I hope it will go on snow- 
ing all night, then in the morning we’ll have a 
good snowball fight.” 

The next morning, when the boys again looked 
out of the window, the ground was still white. 
It had been freezing hard in the night, and 
everything looked bright and beautiful. There 
were icicles outside on the window frames, and 
pretty lanterns made by the frost on the win- 
dows themselves. 

As soon as the boys were dressed they went 
down to the dining-room for breakfast. Their 
father was a soldier, and he had taught them 
to salute in proper soldier fashion. They were 
always expected to be down exactly at eight 
o’clock, and as soon as their father or mother 
came into the room they put their right hands 
up to their foreheads and saluted. They were 

106 


Feeding the Birds 

twins; and they were so very much alike that 
strangers could never tell which was which. 
They were always dressed exactly alike too, 
which made it still harder to tell the one from 
the other. 

On this particular morning their father came 
into the dining-room a few minutes after eight, 
and found the twins, as usual, ready to greet 
him. 

“Good morning, boys,” he said. 

“Good morning, Father,” said the boys, salut- 
ing. 

“Mother is not coming down to breakfast this 
morning, and she says I am to tell you not to 
forget to feed the birds.” 

There was not much fear of Leslie’s forget- 
ting. He loved birds, and he knew the names of 
a great many. Only yesterday he had bought 
a cocoanut with his own money. He knew they 
were fond of that. As soon as breakfast was 
over, his father divided the cocoanut into two 
halves for him, and bored a little hole in each 
half. Through the holes they put a piece of 
string, and then they went out and tied them to 
a tree. They had hardly got back to the dining- 
room before two chickadees, who had been 
watching curiously, settled on the cocoanut and 
began pecking away. 

“Look!” cried Jim, “they have found it al- 
ready.” 


107 


Everyday Stories 

Then Leslie went into the kitchen and asked 
Cook if she had any bones. She said she had a 
mutton bone with some tiny bits of meat left on 
it, if that would do. Leslie said that was just 
the very thing. Then he begged from her some 
scraps of bacon which had been left over from 
breakfast. Bread-crumbs were the next things 
to be got ready. Cook cut him a slice from the 
loaf, and this he crumbled up into little pieces. 

At this moment Jim came into the kitchen. 
He never liked to be away from Leslie long. 

“What are you doing all this long time?” he 
said. 

“Getting the birds’ breakfast ready,” said Les- 
lie. “Come and help to crumble up this bread. 
Don’t make the pieces too small though, or the 
birds won’t be able to find them in the snow.” 

“Father says we are to give them some water 
too.” 

“Why?” 

“He says the water is all frozen out of doors 
and we are to put some out for them in a sau- 
cer.” 

“All right,” said Leslie. 

Soon the birds’ breakfast was ready: the bits 
of bacon, cut up small, the bread in nice little 
pieces, the mutton bone with little bits of meat 
left on it; and outside there was the cocoanut. 

The twins took the food out and scattered it 
about near the dining-room window so that they 

108 


Feeding the Birds 

could watch the birds come and enjoy the feast. 
They had not long to wait. First a chickadee 
came, then a bluebird, then two blackbirds, then 
some sparrows, then a robin, with his bright lit- 
tle eyes and pretty red breast, then some little 
tits. 

“Let’s wait till they’ve finished before we go 
and play with the snow,” said Leslie. 

“Yes, let’s,” said Jim. 

They waited till all was eaten except part of 
the cocoanut and the bone, and then they went 
out and had great fun snowballing each other. 


100 


Lost 

S HE was such a fat little thing. Her cheeks 
were round and soft, and they felt just 
like velvet. Her real name was Christine ; 
sometimes she was called Chris, and sometimes 
Roly. Roly seems a funny name for a little girl 
to have, doesn’t it? But it came about in this 
way. Her father used to tease her about being 
so fat; he called her a little roly-poly pudding, 
and sometimes he would say: “Where is that 
little Roly-poly?” and by degrees Mother got 
into the way of calling her Roly-poly too. Then 
they found that it was rather a long name to say 
when they were in a hurry, so they shortened it 
to Roly. But visitors and relations and friends 
called her Christine or Chris. 

She was a most good-tempered little thing, 
and did not in the least mind being teased. In- 
deed she laughed at the teasing as much as any 
one. She was three years old. She could not 
say all her words quite plainly, but the grown- 
ups always understood what she meant. She 
had no brothers or sisters. Her home was in 
the big town for part of the year, and in the 
country for the other part. People used some- 
times to say to her: “Which do you like best, 
no 


Lost 

Chris, your town or your country home?” and 
Chris did not know how to answer them, for as 
long as she was with Father and Mother or 
Nanny and as long as she had her dear Dimpey 
she did not mind where she was. I expect you 
are wondering who Dimpey was. She was a 
doll. She was called Dimpey because she had 
such a pretty dimple in her chin. Mother gave 
her the name. Christine could not possibly have 
thought of it for herself, because she didn’t know 
what a dimple was till Mother explained. 
Dimpey was almost a person. She shared every- 
thing with Christine. She slept on a chair near 
her at nights. She went out for walks with her. 
She sat by her side at meals. Her cheeks had 
once been rosy; but they were pale now, for 
Christine washed them with soap one day and 
she rubbed too hard and most of the color came 
off. Her hair, too, was not quite as beauti- 
ful as it once had been; but still she was a dear 
little person, and Mother and Chris both loved 
her; and even Father seemed rather fond of 
her. 

Well, now I must tell you what happened to 
Christine one day. She and her father and 
mother and Nanny and some of the maids had 
gone to their house in the country. Christine 
was so pleased with the garden and all the lovely 
flowers in it. She was not allowed to go into 

the garden alone, as there was a pond in one part 
hi 


Everyday Stories 

of it, and Nanny was afraid she might tumble in. 
But one morning she quite forgot what Nanny 
had said, and when no one was looking she 
trotted out of the hall, down the steps, and along 
a broad gravel path, until at last she came to a 
door in the garden wall. This door was open, 
and she peeped out on to the road. She thought 
it very nice outside, so she went through the lit- 
tle door, and found herself on a clean, sunny 
road. A few yards in front of her she saw some 
dear little bantam hens. She was so pleased with 
the pretty little things that she ran after them as 
fast as her fat little legs would carry her. But 
the faster she ran, the faster also they ran, and 
she could not catch them. She had no hat on, 
and she was wearing her thin house shoes. The 
next thing that she saw was a black dog. He 
looked so friendly that she went up to him and 
stroked him. 

“Dear old doggie,” she said. “Doggie not 
hurt Roly.” 

After that she saw a pretty colored butter- 
fly, and of course she wanted to catch that! 
Again she set off running. The butterfly flew 
down a narrow lane, so Christine turned down 
that way too. By this time she had got quite 
a long way from home, but she did not know it; 
she was too young to understand. She next 
came to a house standing back in a little garden. 
A path led up to the door, and on each side there 


Lost 

were poppies. Christine was very fond of any- 
thing colored, and she did not know she ought 
not to go into other people’s gardens, so she 
trotted in and began picking the pretty red flow- 
ers. When she had got a handful, she suddenly 
remembered that she was not at home! Where 
was she? Where was Father, and Mother, and 
Nanny, and Dimpey? She looked round her, 
but everything was strange. She had never been 
here before — never seen this garden or this house. 
And who was this lady coming toward her? 
Chris could not tell. 

It was one of the ladies who lived here. She 
and her sister lived together here, and they had 
seen from the window the strange little girl 
without a hat come into their garden. They had 
only lately come to live in this part of the coun- 
try, so they did not know Chris and her father 
and mother. 

“Whoever can it be?” said the elder lady. “I 
will go out and speak to her.” 

Then she went out and began to question the 
little girl. 

“Who are you, my dear?” she said. 

“Me want Muvver,” said poor Chris, burst- 
ing into tears. “Me want Muvver, and me 
wants to go home.” 

Poor little Chris was crying dreadfully by this 
time. 

“What is your name, dear?” said the lady. 

1 13 


Everyday Stories 

But Chris could say nothing but “Me want 
Muvver. Me wants to go home.” 

“Don’t cry. I will take you home,” said the 
lady kindly. 

Then she turned to her sister and said: “I 
do wish we knew who the poor little thing is. I 
wish she could tell us her name. I will try 
again. 

“Can you tell me your name, dear? What 
does Mother call you? Does she say Mary? 
Or does she say Alice?” 

But still Christine kept on sobbing as if her 
little heart would break. One of the ladies 
fetched a biscuit, but the little girl was too un- 
happy to care about biscuits just then. 

“I know what we will do,” said the younger 
sister. “We will take her out, and perhaps she 
can show us which way she came ; or if not, we 
may meet somebody looking for her.” 

So they all set out together. But Chris 
couldn’t remember which way she had come. 
She had been too busy thinking of the little 
hens, and the big doggie, and the butterfly. 
When they found that she did not know the way 
home, and that no one seemed to be trying to 
find her, they turned back once more to their 
house. They were wondering how they could 
find out where the little girl lived. 

“Let us see if her name is on any of her 
clothes,” said one of the ladies. They took off 


her little frock, and found on her white petti- 
coat the name “ C . Sylvester.” 

“Why, I believe that is the name of the fam- 
ily who live in that big house in the park. She 
must live there.” 

“I believe it is; indeed I remember now that 
is the name. Now, darling, we can take you 
home, so don’t cry any more.” 

Christine brightened up at this delightful bit 
of good news, and soon stopped crying. 

Once more they all set out together. They 
had only gone a few yards when they met Nanny. 
Poor Nanny’s face was white with anxiety. She 
had hunted everywhere for Chris, and oh, how 
delighted she was to find her again! She 
thanked the two ladies for their kindness, and 
then she carried the little girl all the way home. 
So it all ended happily after all! 

Father and Mother had been out all day, and 
so they did not know till the evening about poor 
little Roly’s adventure. Mother said: “Roly 
must not go on to the road by herself again,” 
and Roly said : “Me not go again.” 


The Dolls ’ Tea-Party 

O NCE upon a time there lived a little girl 
whose name was Rachel. She had no 
brothers or sisters, and there were no 
little boys or girls who lived near for her to 
play with. But she was not at all lonely, for she 
had four great friends in the nursery. These 
friends were dolls. Now, most little girls like 
dolls, but there never was a little girl who loved 
them more than Rachel. She called them her 
children, and she pretended that she was their 
mother. She never minded a wet day. If her 
mother said it was too wet to go out, she said : 

“I shall be quite happy indoors, Mother, for 
I am going to have a very busy day, seeing to my 
children.” 

One morning, soon after breakfast, she went 
to the toy cupboard and, taking out her “chil- 
dren,” she said: 

“Now, children, I am sorry to say you are 
all ill to-day, and I must undress you and put 
you to bed.” 

Then she undressed William, the boy doll, 
who was dressed in a white jersey and blue 
knickerbockers. 

“William, your jersey is a disgrace; how did 


The Dolls' Tea-Party 

you get it so dirty, you naughty boy? But I 
won’t say any more now, for I can see your head 
aches. I would put my cool hand on your head, 
but I must see to these other children, who are 
all ill too.” 

She then laid William down, and attended to 
the other three, whose names were Josephine, 
Matilda, and Clarissa. 

“Now, Josephine, don’t you cry; I don’t be- 
lieve you are as ill as William, and look at him, 
he is smiling.” 

Then Josephine was undressed, and laid by 
William’s side. 

“Come here, Matilda. Let me see what is the 
matter with you — toothache? I think the den- 
tist must see you. Lie here with the others.” 

So Matilda was put by Josephine’s side. 

“Now, little Clarissa, you look very ill indeed. 
I think you are the baddest of all. I am afraid 
you have scarlet fever. But you are a very 
brave girl not to cry. 

“Now I must get your beds ready.” 

There were only two beds for the four dolls, 
so William and Josephine were put in one, and 
Matilda and Clarissa in the other. They hadn’t 
any real nightgowns, so Rachel tied little bits 
of calico round them, and this did almost as 
well. 

“Nobody must kick off the clothes. William, 
you are generally the fidgety one. Josephine, 

ii 7 


Everyday Stories 

just keep your eye on him, please. I am going 
to get the medicines ready.” 

Rachel then got one of the teacups from a tiny 
tea-set she used when the dolls had tea. It was a 
white cup with pink flowers on it. She then 
pretended to pour something into it and went to 
the dolls’ bed. 

“William, I can see your foot sticking out 
from under the blanket. Put it under the 
clothes this minute. What did you say — it 
wasn’t your foot? Well, then, it must be your 
hand. Whichever it is, put it under the clothes. 
Now, no laughing! There is nothing to laugh 
at.” 

The dolls all took their medicine without 
making the slightest fuss, though it was very 
bitter and nasty. They really were most self- 
controlled little people. 

“Remember, children, I am a hospital nurse 
now; I am not your mother this morning. Now 
let me feel all your pulses.” 

Rachel took hold of all the little wrists in turn. 

“Two have quick pulses, and two have slow. 

“Now all put your tongues out. Yes, that will 
do. Your tongues are all nice and red, except 
Clarissa’s, and that is rather white. She is cer- 
tainly the illest of you all. But never mind, 
Clarissa, my pet; you shall have the most jelly.” 

Then Rachel pretended to give each doll some 
jelly from a teaspoon. Clarissa had two tastes. 

118 


The Dolls' Tea-Party 

“Now you are all well again, so off you go to 
the toy-cupboard, children, till this afternoon, 
when we are going to have a grand tea-party.” 

Rachel hadn’t time to dress them again, as it 
was time for her walk with Nurse. 

After dinner she made great preparations for 
the dolls’ tea-party. First she washed all the 
tiny tea things. Nurse let her have some water 
in a basin and a piece of soap and a towel. She 
washed the teapot first, then the cream-jug and 
sugar-basin, then the cups and saucers, then the 
plates, and last of all the tiny spoons. She dried 
them carefully with the towel. 

“Why are you washing the tea things, Miss 
Rachel?” said Nurse. “You surely didn’t put 
them away dirty after your last tea-party?” 

“Oh, no, of course not. I thought they looked 
a little dusty, and I wanted them to shine very 
bright, for this is a very extra sort of party to- 
day. I am pretending it is my birthday — only 
pretending, you know.” 

Rachel then spread the little white cloth on a 
small table and put out all the tea things. 
Then she tore up some colored paper into tiny 
bits, and put them on a plate and pretended they 
were cakes. She had small pieces of white 
paper for bread and butter, and little white 
beads for the lump sugar. She made water do 
for the tea, as there was no real tea to be had at 
the time. 


119 


Everyday Stories 

“Now the tea is ready, and I must dress the 
children. Dear me, they do keep me busy!” 

William was dressed in his usual clothes be- 
cause he hadn’t another suit. 

“Oh, dear, that dirty jersey!” exclaimed Ra- 
chel. Josephine was in pink, Matilda in green, 
and Clarissa in blue. Rachel made their hair 
tidy, and they really all looked very nice. Wil- 
liam’s jersey didn’t show very much, for he had 
his back to the light. 

The dolls were placed round the table on little 
chairs from the dolls’ house. Unfortunately 
Clarissa fell off her chair to begin with, and that 
rather delayed matters, for she had to be kissed 
and comforted before they could begin tea. At 
last they all had their little cups near them full 
of tea, and Rachel gave them each a piece of 
bread and butter. 

“Eat slowly, William; and don’t put such big 
pieces into your mouth. 

“Sit up like a little lady, Clarissa. 

“Are you ready for some more tea, Josephine? 
Half a cup, did you say? 

“Matilda, you are not eating much. What is 
the matter?” 

At this point William nearly choked himself. 
“William, you must have been drinking when 
you had bread and butter in your mouth. How 
often am I to tell you not to do that?” 

Rachel next gave each doll a piece of cake. 

120 


The Dolls ' 1 Tea-Party 

Matilda, who did not feel hungry, said: “I 
would rather not have any, please.” So Rachel 
took her piece back again. 

“William, you are eating much more nicely 
now. I do really think you are improving, and 
if you could only learn to keep your jerseys clean 
you would be quite a nice little boy.” 

William looked delighted at such praise from 
his “mother.” 

When everybody had had enough, Rachel said 
they might all get down from the table, and she 
would clear away the tea things. They sat all in 
a row, watching her. Presently they said all to- 
gether, in rather high, shrill little voices: 

“Thank you very much for the tea-party. We 
have all enjoyed it very much.” 

Josephine had suggested that they should say 
this, before they came. She said : 

“When I hold up my finger after tea you will 
know it is time for us to say ‘Thank you.’ ” 

So ended the dolls’ tea-party. 


121 


Going Out to Tea 

M ARY and Dick were invited to go and 
have tea with two ladies who lived just 
on the other side of the park. They 
had never been out quite by themselves before, so 
that it was really an important event. It came 
about in this way: The two ladies, whose names 
were Miss Smith and Miss Gray, were friends of 
Mary’s and Dick’s mother, and they were very 
fond of children. Meeting Mary and Dick out 
with their nurse one day, they stopped them, and 
said: “Would you like to come and have tea 
with us this afternoon? We should like to show 
you our cuckoo clock.” 

“Yes, please, we should like to come very 
much, if Mother will let us,” said Mary. She 
was six, and she knew how to answer a question 
politely. 

Then the two ladies turned to Nurse and said: 
“Do you think their mother would let them come 
by themselves?” 

Nurse said she would ask when she got home. 
“We should like you to come at four o’clock, 
dear.” 

“Yes, thank you,” Mary answered. 

Dick was four, and too shy to say anything till 

122 


Going Out to Tea 

the ladies were out of sight. When they had 
gone on some way he said : “Have they any lit- 
tle boys or girls like you and me, Mary?” 

“No, I don’t think they have; do you, 
Nurse?” 

“I don’t think so,” said Nurse, “unless they are 
perhaps having a party, but you will see when 
you get there.” 

“I don’t want to go,” said Dick. 

“Oh, Dick, that’s naughty; of course you must 
go. And besides, think of the cuckoo clock; 
you’d like to see that, wouldn’t you?” 

“I want Mother to go too.” 

“Dicky, you are a baby,” said Mary. “You 
cant be with Mother always; can he, Nurse?” 

“No, he can’t,” said Nurse. “He must learn 
some time to go about without her.” 

Dick did not like being called a baby, and he 
looked as if he were going to cry. Now Mary 
was a kind-hearted little girl, and she never liked 
to see Dick in trouble. 

“Look here, Dickie,” she said, “I am sure it 
will be nice going. I’ll take care of you, and 
we’ll ask Mother to come and fetch us home, 
shall we?” 

“Yes,” said Dick. “I sha’n’t mind if Mother 
comes to fetch us home.” 

So it was arranged that way. Mother said 
she thought she could manage it, and as it was 
the first time that they had been out to tea with- 
123 


Everyday Stories 

out her or Nurse, she would come just for this 
time. 

“But, Dickie, my little man, you will have to 
learn to go about without Mother sometimes, 
you know, or what will the boys say when they 
come home from school ?” 

The “boys” were Dick’s two big brothers, who 
teased him, when they were at home, if they 
thought him babyish. “You wouldn’t like them 
to call you a baby any more, would you?” said 
Mother. 

“No,” said Dick. 

“Well, then, mind you behave like a man 
when you go out to tea this afternoon, and what- 
ever you do, don’t cry, will you?” 

“No,” said Dick again. 

At half-past three the two children were 
dressed — Mary in a clean white frock and Dick 
in a clean blue smock. They looked very neat 
and tidy, and they walked along together hand in 
hand to the house of Miss Smith and Miss Gray. 
Mary felt a little bit nervous, but she felt she 
must keep up a brave heart for Dick’s sake. 

As for Dick, he clung tightly to his sister’s 
hand, and wished himself at home, but he had 
made up his mind to be a man; he thought if he 
did begin to cry now, Mary might tell the big 
boys when they came home for the next holidays. 
And how he did hate being called a baby! 

They knew Miss Smith’s and Miss Gray’s 

124 


Going Out to Tea 

house very well. It was covered with Virginia 
creeper, and the garden was very pretty. 

Mary could only just reach the bell, for it was 
rather high up. However, she did just manage it 
by standing on tiptoe. Unfortunately, when she 
had given it a pull, it slipped back with a jerk, 
and gave a much louder ring than she meant! 
It went on ringing and ringing for quite a long 
time! That was a bad beginning. 

“I’m afraid they’ll think we are in a hurry to 
get in, or something,” she said. 

A maid came then and showed them into the 
drawing-room, where the two ladies were. 

“How do you do, my dears?” said the ladies, 
one after another, to the children. 

They both said : “Quite well, thank you.” 

Dick, in his nervousness, shook hands with his 
left hand, though he did really know better. 
Mary said: “The other hand, Dickie,” but it 
was too late then. 

“Never mind,” said Miss Smith, “they are 
both dear little hands.” 

“Tea is not quite ready yet,” said Miss Gray. 
“I wonder if you would like to go and play in the 
garden a little while, would you? We haven’t 
any little boys and girls for you to play with, but 
we often have children staying here, and we have 
lots of things for you to play with.” 

Mary said: “We should like to go out, 
please.” 


Everyday Stories 

Then the ladies found them a bat and a ball 
and they had a game on the lawn. This made 
Dick feel quite happy. He had been afraid he 
would have to sit still in the drawing-room all 
the time, with nothing to do. It was turning out 
better than he expected. 

Then another surprise awaited them. They 
had tea in the summer-house at the far end of 
the lawn. And, better still, there was a dolls’ 
tea service laid on the table, and two dolls (one 
dressed like a boy and one like a girl) were 
seated on chairs at the table, when the children 
took their places! There was a dolls’ tea-pot, a 
cream-jug, sugar-basin, tiny sugar-tongs, four 
cups and saucers, four plates, and four teaspoons. 
The cups were quite a good size, and the ladies 
were going to have tea out of them as well as the 
children. 

“Oh, may I pour out?” said Dickie. He had 
quite forgotten his shyness now. 

“Oh, Dickie, you must wait to be asked,” said 
Mary. 

“Well,” said Miss Smith, “it is generally the 
little girls who pour out tea, isn’t it?” 

“He can, if he likes,” said Mary, and so it was 
arranged. 

“You will be careful, won’t you, Dickie?” she 
said. She felt that she must look after him well, 
as Mother was not there. 

Then the tea began. 


126 


Going Out to Tea 

Dick really managed very well. He certainly 
did get the sugar-tongs a little bent; but Miss 
Gray said they were a very “bendy” kind and it 
did not matter, she would straighten them again. 

After tea the two ladies sat and did some 
needlework on the lawn, and the children 
played. They were allowed to run about just 
where they liked. They found a swing and a 
see-saw up in one part of the garden, and they 
did have such fun with them. Then they played 
hide-and-seek, and they were just in the middle 
of it when they saw Mother come into the gar- 
den. She had come to fetch them home. They 
had enjoyed their afternoon so much that they 
were quite sorry to go. 

On the way home Dick said: “Next time 
they ask me out to tea I shall like going.” 

“How did you like the cuckoo clock?” said 
Mother. 

“Why, we never saw it!” exclaimed Mary. 
“We forgot all about it, and I believe the ladies 
did too.” 

They had only got a few steps from the house, 
so Mother said they should turn back and ask to 
see it. As it happened, Miss Smith had just re- 
membered too, that she had promised the chil- 
dren that they should see the clock, and she was 
just coming out of the door to fetch them back. 
So they went in again and upstairs to a room 
which was called the old nursery. The clock 
127 


Everyday Stories 

stood in a corner of the room. It was a big 
one, like what is often called a grandfather’s 
clock, and when it struck the hours a cuckoo 
hopped out of a little door near the top of the 
clock and called “Cuckoo.” 

It was five minutes to six, so they had not long 
to wait before they heard it. As soon as the 
hands of the clock pointed to six, they heard a 
little sound, and then out came the cuckoo, and 
it said “Cuckoo” six times. Dick counted, and 
so he knew that there was no mistake about it. 


128 


The Picnic on the Sands 

“TWTURSE, when Mother was a little girl, 
she had tea on the sands one day. She 
told me so. Her nurse took her, not 
you , you know, but her nurse.” 

It was Nora who said this. 

“Yes, I see,” said Nurse. 

“Do you think we might have a little sort of 
picnic, Nurse?” 

“Perhaps we might.” 

“What about to-day?” asked Nora. 

“Oh, no, to-day wouldn’t do; it is too cold and 
windy for a picnic.” 

“Well, to-morrow may we?” 

“Yes, if it is warm and nice, we will.” 

“I think just you and me only would be rather 
dull for a picnic, don’t you?” said Nora. 

“Well, it would be nicer and more of a picnic 
if we could get somebody else to come,” said 
Nurse. 

“Oh, I know,” said Nora. “Let’s ask those 
little girls I paddled with; may we?” 

“We must ask their mother first,” said Nurse. 
“I wonder if their mother is here,” said Nora. 
“Perhaps she’s stayed at home like my mother.” 
“She is here,” said Nurse. “I saw her sitting 

129 


Everyday Stories 

on the sand yesterday, and I heard the children 
say ‘Mother.’ ” 

Nora and Nurse were having a walk on the 
beach when this conversation took place. They 
had been to have a look at the donkeys, and Nora 
had given them each a pat. 

“Could I have a ride to-day, Nurse, on Gal- 
loping Jimmy’s back?” asked Nora. 

“No, dear, not to-day,” said Nurse. “I 
haven’t enough pennies to let you have rides 
every day. I think two rides while we are at the 
sea will be enough.” 

“Two isn’t very many, is it, Nurse?” 

“No, but you can’t always be having treats; it 
wouldn’t be good for a little girl.” 

“Are treats good for grown-up people?” asked 
Nora. 

“Not too many of them,” said Nurse. 

The next day turned out warm and fine, and in 
the morning Nora saw the little girls she had 
paddled with. They were busy digging. They 
were making a garden in the sand, and decorat- 
ing it with shells and seaweed. 

Nurse asked the little girls’ mother if Nora 
might play with them, and she said yes, she 
would be much pleased for her to do so. 

“Esther,” she called, “here is little Nora 
again; let her come and play with you.” 

Esther was seven, and she could make more 
things with her spade and bucket than Nora 
130 


The Picnic on the Sands 

could. Her sister’s name was Barbara, and she 
was five — just the same age as Nora. 

They played together for some time, and then 
they paddled in the sea. Nora was just a little 
bit afraid sometimes when a big wave came near, 
but Esther and Barbara had paddled so often 
before that they were not in the least frightened, 
and soon Nora got more used to the waves too. 

“Let’s join hands,” said Esther, “and have a 
good run just along the edge of the water.” 

“All right,” said the other two. So they did, 
and they had such fun. 

Just before they all went home to dinner 
Nurse asked Esther’s and Barbara’s mother if 
the children might all have a picnic together on 
the beach in the afternoon. The mother said 
they might. So it was settled that Nurse and 
Nora were to bring the food and the cups and 
everything and they were to call for Esther and 
Barbara at half-past three. Nurse wrote down 
the name of the house where they were to call, 
so that there might be no mistake. 

“We’ll be ready at half-past three,” called out 
Esther, just after they had said good-by. 

In the afternoon Nora lay down for half an 
hour, and then she went down to the kitchen with 
Nurse, and they asked the landlady to give them 
some bread, butter, cake, and milk. 

They helped the landlady pack up the baskets. 
The milk was put into a big, clean bottle and 


Everyday Stories 

well corked. The bottle and the cups were put 
into a basket by themselves. They were 
wrapped round with soft paper for fear they 
should knock against each other and break. 
The cake and bread and butter were packed into 
another basket. 

“You can carry the basket with the food in,” 
Nurse said to Nora. “It is not very heavy.” 

“Oh, Nurse, I am too little to carry anything.” 

“Too little! What nonsense!” said Nurse. 
“A great big girl of five must learn to be use- 
ful.” 

Nora felt rather ashamed of herself. 

“I am sorry, Nurse,” she said. “I will carry 
the basket.” 

Then they set off. They found the house 
easily where Esther and Barbara lived, for it 
was not very far away. They rang the front 
door bell, and almost at once the two children 
appeared. 

When they got to the beach the first thing was 
to find a nice place. Nurse said they had better 
look out for a quiet spot, where there were not 
many children digging. So they walked along 
the sands a little way, and they soon found a very 
nice, smooth piece of sand in a quiet part. 

Then they unpacked the baskets. 

“Oh, Nurse, we haven’t brought a tablecloth,” 
said Nora. 

“Yes, we have,” said Nurse. “Mrs. Hall put 


The Picnic on the Sands 

one at the bottom of the bigger basket.” (Mrs. 
Hall was the landlady at the lodgings.) 

Nurse spread the cloth on the sand. There 
was just a little wind, which blew it about. So 
the three children ran to find some stones to put 
on it to keep it down. 

“Get four nice clean stones,” said Nurse. 
“One for each corner. They must be big ones.” 

They had no difficulty in finding smooth peb- 
bles; there were plenty on the beach. Esther 
got two, and Barbara and Nora one each. 

“I know what would make the table look 
pretty,” said Nora. 

“What?” asked Barbara. 

“Some seaweed,” said Nora. “It would do 
for flowers, like we have at home on the table for 
meals.” 

“May we?” asked Esther. 

“Yes, if you can find some clean, pretty bits 
that are not very wet,” said Nurse. 

“Oh, and shells too!” exclaimed Nora. 

“Yes, shells!” said Barbara. 

They made the table look so pretty. Esther 
arranged the seaweed, and Barbara and Nora 
put the shells all round it. Then they got tiny 
pebbles and arranged them in a pretty pattern on 
the table-cloth. 

By that time they were all quite hungry, and 
ready for tea. They sat round the cloth and 
Nurse handed them all bread and butter. Then 

133 


Everyday Stories 

she poured them out some milk. They all be- 
haved very nicely. Just once Barbara made a 
mistake. She began talking when her mouth 
was full of cake. 

“Barbara!” exclaimed Esther, “do not put so 
much cake in your mouth at once. Your voice 
sounds so horrid and thick when you talk like 
that.” 

That was the only part of the whole picnic 
that wasn’t nice, and it was soon over. When it 
was time to go home they all agreed that they 
had had a delightful afternoon. 

“I hope you enjoyed it too, did you, Nurse?” 
asked Esther. 

“Yes, very much, thank you, dear,” said 
Nurse. 


134 


The Kindergarten 

O NCE upon a time there were two little 
brothers whose names were Philip and 
Archie Grant. Philip was generally 
called Phil for short. He was five. Archie 
was four. They lived in a town, and their house 
had only a very small garden attached to it. 

“I wish,” said the little boys’ mother one day, 
“that we had a bigger garden for the children to 
play in.” 

She was talking to a lady who was paying a 
call. 

“I think if I were you,” said the visitor, “that 
I would send your little boys to the Kindergar- 
ten. My Harry goes to the one in High Street, 
and he does so enjoy it.” 

“I think it would be a good plan. I must 
think about it,” said Mrs. Grant. 

One morning soon after this conversation 
took place Mrs. Grant said to her little boys: 
“Come here, Phil and Archie. I have some- 
thing to tell you.” 

“Is it a secret, Mother?” said Phil. 

“No, it isn’t a secret. It is this — I am going 
to send you to the Kindergarten on Monday.” 
“What is the Kindergarten?” asked Archie. 

135 


Everyday Stories 

“I know. It is a school, isn’t it, Mother?” 
said Phil. 

“Yes, it is a school where only little boys and 
girls like you go. They have such nice games 
there, and they do drawing and dancing and 
marching and all sorts of things that you would 
love to do.” 

“Can we go to-day, Mother?” asked Archie. 

“No, you must wait till Monday.” 

“Shall we go by ourselves, or will you take 
us?” said Phil. 

“I shall take you the first time, and then, as 
the school is so very near, I think you can go by 
yourselves.” 

“What fun it will be!” said Phil. 

On the very next Monday, Mrs. Grant, Phil, 
and Archie set off directly after breakfast for the 
school. It was quite near to their house, and it 
only took them two minutes to get there. When 
they got near to the school gates they saw several 
other children going in the same direction as 
themselves. 

“I think those children must be going too, 
don’t you, Mother?” 

“Yes, I think they must.” 

They went in at the big school gates, and Mrs. 
Grant asked to see Miss Yonge, the head- 
mistress. 

“I have brought the little boys I told you 
about,” said Mrs. Grant. 

136 


The Kindergarten 

Phil and Archie liked the look of Miss Yonge 
very much. She had such a kind face. 

“Well, Phil, and how are you?” she said. 
“You see, I know your name already.” 

“Quite well, thank you,” said Phil. 

“And how are you, Archie?” 

“Quite well, thank you,” said Archie. 

Then Mrs. 'Grant went home again, and the 
two little boys, holding each other’s hands, fol- 
lowed Miss Yonge into a cloak-room. Here 
were several children taking off their hats and 
coats. Some were quite tiny boys and girls, and 
a teacher was helping them; and some could 
manage by themselves. 

“Miss Smith, here are two new little boys,” 
said Miss Yonge to the teacher. “Will you 
look after them?” 

Miss Smith showed Phil and Archie where to 
put their hats and coats. When they were ready 
they went with her and the other children to 
a large room, where they saw a number of little 
chairs. 

Miss Smith showed them where to sit, and 
they took their places with the rest of the chil- 
dren. 

Presently everybody stood up. Phil and 
Archie did not know the reason at first; but a 
little girl sitting near whispered: “We always 
stand when Miss Yonge comes into the room.” 

Then Miss Yonge gave out the hymn that was 

137 


Everyday Stories 

to be sung. It began: “There’s a Friend for 
little children.” 

Phil and Archie looked at each other and 
smiled, for their mother had taught them the 
words of that. 

After the hymn came prayers. They all knelt 
down, closed their eyes, and put their hands to- 
gether. The room was so quiet, you might have 
heard a pin drop. The prayers were quite easy 
to understand. Even little Archie knew that 
Miss Yonge was thanking God for taking care of 
His children through the night, and asking Him 
to help them to be good during the day, and he 
said “Amen” with all the rest, when the prayers 
were over. 

Then one of the teachers went to the piano and 
played a very pretty tune, and the children 
marched in time to it to their different class- 
rooms. Although Phil and Archie were not the 
same age, their teacher said they were to stay in 
the same class for the present. They were very 
much pleased to hear this, for they did not want 
to be parted. 

They marched away with twelve other chil- 
dren to one of the class-rooms. The teacher 
called out: “Heads up; toes turned out.” 

When they reached the class-room they found 
some little chairs arranged in a half-circle round 
the teacher’s chair. Then, when they were all 
seated, the teacher showed them a picture and 
138 


The Kindergarten 

told them a Bible story. After that she told 
them to draw something she had mentioned in 
the story. She gave each child a pencil and a 
piece of paper, and soon they were all drawing. 

The story had been about the little baby Jesus 
being born, and about some shepherds who came 
to see Him. 

“I think I shall draw one of the shepherds,” 
Archie whispered to Phil. 

“You can’t, can you?” said Phil. 

“Yes, it’s only a man. What will you draw?” 

“I shall do a sheep,” answered Phil. 

Then there was silence for a little while. All 
the children were busy drawing. Archie’s man 
was rather funny; but he was only four, so you 
couldn’t expect him to draw very well. Phil’s 
sheep looked like a dog; but a sheep is difficult 
to draw, and Miss Smith said it was not bad for 
a first attempt. 

After the drawing there came a reading lesson. 
A blackboard was put up in front of the class, 
and Miss Smith printed some words on it with 
white chalk, and the children learned to read 
them. Then some of the children were allowed 
to come out and write some little words on the 
board. 

Next came a writing-lesson. Pencils and 
writing-books were given to every child — a little 
girl called Amy who was rather bigger than the 
others helped the teacher to give them out. Phil 

139 


Everyday Stories 

could make just a few letters; but Archie could 
only make strokes and o’s. 

It would take too long to tell of all the other 
things they did in school. There were games 
and songs and marching and a great many other 
nice things that they did. 

“I like going to the Kindergarten,” said Phil, 
as they walked home. “It is jolly.” 

“So do I,” answered his little brother. 


140 


Mr. West-Wind 

M Y name is Mr. West-Wind. You must 
treat me with great respect, and never 
forget to say “Mr.,” or I shall play you 
a trick. You have no idea what mischief I can 
be up to! I am going to tell you about some of 
the tricks I played one day. 

Well, once upon a time, not so very long ago, 
I thought I would have a little fun, so I put on 
my thinking cap, and said to myself: “Now, 
what shall I do first?” If you don’t know what 
a thinking cap is, you ought to, and I sha’n’t ex- 
plain it. Directly I had put my cap on, an idea 
came into my head, as of course I knew it would. 
I saw a little girl, who looked to me about five 
years old. She had blue eyes and light, wavy 
hair, which hung some way down her back. She 
was wearing a big white hat trimmed with blue 
ribbon just the color of her eyes. She was talk- 
ing to her doll Amabel, who was in a dolls’ baby- 
carriage by her side. 

“Oh, dear me, Amabel,” she was saying, “I do 
wish this tiresome wind would be quiet; it keeps 
blowing my hair into my eyes.” 

“Tiresome wind, indeed ! Does she mean me, 
I wonder. I’ll soon teach her manners.” 


Everyday Stories 

Then I rushed up to her, and quickly lifted 
her hat off her head. I didn’t hurt her; I did 
not mean to ; I only wanted to teach her manners. 
I ran off with her hat, high up in the air, over 
the garden wall, across the road, into a field, over 
a hedge, into another field, and then I laid it 
down near a wall. 

I could not resist just peeping into the garden, 
to see what the little girl was doing. She was 
holding her hair out of her eyes with both hands, 
and looking all round to see what had become of 
her hat. 

“Oh, Amabel, where is my hat?” she said. 
But Amabel made no answer. It was as much 
as she could do to keep her own hat on. She 
only managed it by sitting very still under the 
hood of her carriage. 

If you want to know if the little girl ever got 
her hat again, I can only say, “Don’t be inquisi- 
tive.” 

That was my first trick. And this is what I 
did next. A boy was on his way to school carry- 
ing books and a bag and an umbrella. A heavy 
shower of rain came on, and he put up the um- 
brella. Now the silly boy did not notice which 
way I was coming, so I dashed up against his 
umbrella, turned it inside out, and took it right 
out of his hands. Away it went down the hill, 
rolling over and over on the road, still turned in- 
side out. At last a gentleman picked it up, and 

142 


Mr. West- Wind 

turned it the right way round, so I blew it into 
shape again. The boy came running up, quite 
breathless. 

“Thank you,” he said, as the gentleman 
handed the umbrella back to him. “Is it broken, 
do you think?” 

“No, it isn’t broken. But you can’t hold it up 
in such a high wind as this.” 

I laughed to myself and thought: “No, in- 
deed you can’t. I am too strong for you.” 

Then I began wondering what I should do 
next. 

I looked round the little town over which I 
was hovering, and I saw a dear little baby in a 
baby-carriage. Don’t imagine that I was think- 
ing of hurting it. I should not like to do any 
harm to a dear little thing like that. But the 
baby’s big sister really deserved punishment, for 
what do you think she had done? She had left 
the baby-carriage at a very windy corner, while 
she was looking in a toy-shop window. So I 
determined to give her a fright. I went up to 
the baby-carriage, blew it over, and over went 
the little baby! But I took care to let the little 
thing fall on a mat which was outside the door of 
a drugstore. She was not really hurt, but she 
was very much frightened, and she gave a loud 
cry. This brought the sister up in a hurry, and 
she was in a terrible way when she saw what had 
happened. I left them both crying. But it 

143 


Everyday Stories 

really wasn’t my fault that the baby-carriage was 
left at that corner, and before I rushed off to do 
some more mischief I whispered in the big sis- 
ter’s ear, “Don’t do it again,” and I do believe 
she heard me. 

Now for my next trick. It was this. An old 
woman was sitting at a little stall, selling apples 
and gingerbread and candy. Well, I am afraid 
you will think me naughty, but I must confess 
that I blew the whole stall over, and the apples 
and candy and gingerbread went in all direc- 
tions. I did feel rather ashamed of myself, so 
I hurried off as quickly as I could. But I just 
looked round as I rushed off, and I am glad to 
say that two boys who were near the stall helped 
the old woman to pick her things up, and they 
helped her to put up her stall in a less windy 
place. 

After that I blew off a few more people’s hats, 
and then I began to feel tired. I was just drop- 
ping off to sleep when I heard a man say, “Good 
morning, doctor. Very high wind to-day.” 

And the doctor said: “Yes, I like a good 
wind ; it blows away all the microbes.” 

I had no idea what he meant, and I don’t sup- 
pose you have either. I was too sleepy to try to 
find out. But I was pleased that somebody had 
a good word for me. 


144 


Pussy 

I AM a cat, and I live with a lady and gentle- 
man and two little boys. Once upon a time 
I was a kitten. Everybody said I was a 
dear, fluffy little thing. People used to take me 
up in their arms and stroke and pet me. When 
I was very little I used to wear a bell tied round 
my neck. It was fastened to a blue ribbon, 
which was tied in a bow on the top of my little 
neck just between my ears. Whenever I moved 
the bell gave a tinkle; it was such a pretty little 
sound. At first I did not like having the bell 
round my neck; it used to fidget me, and I tried 
to get it off, but I soon got used to it. My 
mother would say to me: “Bear it patiently, 
my dear. Very soon you will hardly notice that 
you have it on at all, and it pleases the twins.” 

I must explain to you that the twins were the 
two little boys I lived with. Their names were 
Roger and Martin. They were both six years 
old. Perhaps you think it strange that they 
should both be six, but they were. They were 
always dressed exactly alike, and their faces were 
so much alike that I couldn’t tell which was 
which by looking at them ; but I knew directly 
they nursed me, because Roger stroked me so 


Everyday Stories 

nicely — he knew which way my fur was meant 
to lie. You would think any little boys or girls 
would know that; but some of them are so 
thoughtless; they stroke fur anyhow. Martin 
was one of the thoughtless ones. He would take 
me up and stroke me from my tail to my head, 
and oh, I did so dislike it! His hands weren’t 
half as gentle, either, as Roger’s. He never 
seemed to think that a kitten has feelings ! 

I heard the twins’ mother say to them one day: 
“Now, you two between you must see that Kitty 
always has some milk for breakfast. You had 
better take it in turns to see to it.” 

I was pleased to hear her say that, for I like 
milk. The next morning Roger came into the 
breakfast-room first. The maid was just bring- 
ing in some toast, so he asked her to give him the 
milk-jug. She handed it to him, and he poured 
out a little into a saucer, and put it down on the 
floor. I was watching him. He was a very 
careful little boy and he did not spill any. I ran 
up to him to thank him, but I was in such a hurry 
to drink the milk that I quite forgot my manners. 
Do you know how pussies say “Thank you”? 
They do it by purring. I purred after I had 
lapped up all the milk with my little red tongue. 
Then I washed my face. I didn’t have any soap 
or towel. I licked my paw, and then rubbed my 
face with my wet paw. That is how I wash my 
face, and a very good way I think it is. I daresay 

146 


Pussy 

it wouldn’t do for boys and girls. After that I 
curled myself up on the hearthrug and went to 
sleep. 

When breakfast was done, Martin tickled my 
nose with a pencil and woke me up. I was gen- 
erally ready for a game. What I liked best of 
all was a cotton reel, or a bit of crumpled paper 
rolled up like a ball. The twins used to throw 
the cotton reel away, and oh, how I scampered 
after it! We had great fun with cotton reels in 
my young days. 

One morning, when it was Martin’s turn to 
give me my milk, he forgot all about it. There 
was that greedy boy sitting down to his oatmeal 
and milk with never a thought of me! How- 
ever, I soon reminded him. I couldn’t remem- 
ber whose turn it was to fill my saucer, but I 
knew well enough that I had been forgotten. I 
ran round the table mewing — that was my way 
of reminding them; and then I heard Martin 
saying : 

“Oh, dear, what a bother you are, Kitty, al- 
ways wanting milk!” But Martin’s father, who 
was a kind man, said : 

“Of course poor Kitty wants her milk. You 
wouldn’t like to go without yours, would you? 
Suppose when you asked for your oatmeal I said, 
‘Oh, dear, what a bother you are, Martin,’ how 
would you like it? And Kitty’s milk is just as 
important to her as your oatmeal is to you.” 

147 


Everyday Stories 

“I don’t suppose I should like it at all,” said 
Martin. 

He then jumped up from the table and gave 
me my milk. 

I must tell you one thing that happened which 
hurt and frightened me very much. It was 
when I had become quite a big cat. I was out 
one day, having a quiet walk on the road just 
outside the garden wall. I am afraid I must 
confess that I had been looking for birds on the 
top of the wall just a moment before. Well, as 
I said, I was walking along the road, when some 
boys saw me, and one said to another : 

“Let’s have some fun with this cat.” 

“Yes. Let’s tie this old can to its leg.” 

Then one held me tight, and the other tied a 
horrid old can to my leg. Oh, how I hated it! 
The string really hurt my leg. The boys 
laughed and thought it great fun, but it was no 
fun to me . I managed to get away from them, 
but I had to drag the can along with me. I 
found my way into our house, and when the boys 
saw where I went they ran away. When I got 
into the hall the twins saw me. 

“Why, Pussy, who has done that? Oh, Nurse, 
do come and see to Pussy!” 

I was mewing, and asking as plainly as I could 
to have the string cut. Nurse got a pair of scis- 
sors, and soon cut the can from me. Then 
Roger said : “I know that whoever did that was 

148 


Pussy 

a horrid boy or girl.” I quite agreed with him. 
I knew my two dear little masters would never 
have done a mean, cruel thing like that. They 
were little gentlemen, and I have heard their 
father say that no gentleman ever does a cruel 
thing. 


140 


Building with Bricks 


WO little children sat on the nursery 



floor one wet afternoon, wondering 


A what they should do next. They were 
twins, and they were six years old. They were 
just the same height, and they both had blue 
suits on exactly alike; and as for their little 
faces — well, they were so much alike that it was 
very hard indeed to tell which was which. 

Visitors to the nursery used to say: “Which 
is Jack, and which is Jill?” 

“Jack” really was the name of the little boy, 
but “Jill’s” real name was Mary; she was always 
called Jill, and I think you can guess why. 

“Let’s play with our bricks,” said Jill. She 
was generally the one who thought of things first. 

“Yes, let’s,” said Jack. 

So Jill climbed on to a chair and stretched up 
her arms, and put out her hands, and at last 
reached a box of bricks. 

“Get my box too,” said Jack. 

“Say please, then,” said Jill. 

“You are not to tell me what to do,” said Jack 
rather crossly. He frowned and stuck out his 
lips. He did not like being ordered about by 
Jill. He quite spoilt his little face when he 


Building with Bricks 

looked cross ; when he was good and pleasant he 
had such a pretty face — they both had. 

“Well, you know what Mother said yester- 
day,” said Jill. “She said, ‘Say Please before 
things and Thank you after things.’ ” 

“Well, please said Jack rather unwillingly. 
But his face was gradually beginning to look 
pretty again, for his ill-temper did not last long, 
and indeed he was nearly always a very good- 
tempered, happy little boy. 

So Jill got the two boxes of bricks down, and 
the twins sat on the hearthrug and began to 
play. 

“What are you going to build?” said Jack. 

“A house,” said Jill. “What are you?” 

“I don’t know yet. I am thinking.” 

“What a slow boy you are,” said Jill. But 
she didn’t say it unkindly. He was a slow little 
boy; but his mother said he was slow and sure. 
He liked to do his building well, and all his 
other work and play well. Jill was rather too 
quick sometimes ; she did not always finish what 
she began to do. She was generally in a hurry. 

“I think I will build a tower,” said Jack, “a 
high one.” 

So they set to work and began to build. 

Jill made a square of bricks first, for the out- 
side walls. 

“I shall put inside walls too, soon,” she said, 
“to divide the roofs, and leave a space for the 


Everyday Stories 

door and the windows. You’ll see how lovely it 
will be.” 

Jack was too busy with his own building to 
take much notice of Jill’s. He was putting one 
brick on the top of another very carefully; he 
made each brick come exactly on the top of the 
other; he felt them all round with his fat little 
hands to see that the last one he had put on did 
not stick out at the side beyond the others. 

“If one brick sticks out,” he said, “I know 
what will happen; the tower will fall over on 
that side.” 

So he worked away very steadily. By the 
time he had put five bricks up, Jill had nearly 
finished her first square, which made the begin- 
ning of her outside walls. It looked as if she 
was going to finish a whole house before Jack 
built his tower. 

But Jill, as usual, was in too great a hurry. 
She made her outside walls, but the bricks were 
not put on evenly like Jack’s ; some leaned over a 
little bit, and some had spaces between. She 
had nearly finished the walls, when all of a sud- 
den down came the whole building! Nobody 
had touched it, but the bricks really could not 
stand steady. If they could have talked they 
would have said: 

“I like being built by Jack best, don’t you?” 

“Yes, I do. He puts you on so firmly and 
steadily; you feel safe with him.” 

152 


Building with Bricks 

Poor Jill felt unhappy. 

“What stupid bricks!” she said. “They won't 
make into a nice house. I think I’ll try some 
stairs.” 

Meanwhile Jack was making a fine tower. 
Higher and higher it grew, till at last he had to 
stand up to go on building. He never even no- 
ticed when Jill’s house fell down, he was so busy 
with his own work. 

Jill began her stairs. She meant to make 
quite a long staircase, and then make her Teddy 
Bear walk up it. 

“It will be much nicer than your tower,” she 
said to Jack, working away hurriedly. 

But he did not speak. He was just then put- 
ting on his last brick, and he had to be very care- 
ful, for the tower was nearly three feet high. 

Jill’s stairs were, as usual, a little bit crooked, 
and not very safe, and she was just reaching 
across them to get another brick when her sleeve 
knocked the top brick over, and down came the 
whole lot with a crash. 

“I don’t like bricks!” she said. 

“I do,” said Jack. He stood back a little way, 
looking at his beautiful tower, which really was 
a very good one. 

“What have you built?” he said, turning to 
look at Jill’s work. He had been so busy he had 
not noticed. “I thought you were going to make 
a house.” 


153 


Everyday Stories 

“Yes, I was; but my bricks are more slippery 
than yours, and the house fell down.” 

“It isn’t because of slippery bricks,” he said. 

“Well, it must be my hands then.” 

“It isn’t your hands,” he said. . “It’s you.” 

But he was a kind little boy, and seeing that 
Jill looked unhappy, he said: 

“I’ll help you. Let’s build something to- 
gether.” 

So they did. They built a farmyard, and put 
the Teddy Bear into it, and he was the farmer. 


154 


Helping Mother 

I N a pretty little house in the country lived a 
mother and two little girls. The house was 
covered with ivy, and it stood in a neat little 
garden in which there was a swing. This swing 
was much used by the little girls. Perhaps I 
ought not to call them “little,” though, for they 
were really quite big; the eldest, whose name was 
Nellie, was nearly nine years old, and her sister, 
whose name was Rose, was seven. 

On fine summer mornings, when the light 
comes peeping into our windows very early, and 
when the birds sing so sweetly, little boys and 
girls wake early too. 

Now Nellie and Rose were allowed to get up 
at any time after half-past six, for they were able 
to dress themselves and do their own hair, and 
they never got in their mother’s way when she 
was busy. And she generally was busy, for she 
had no one to help her with the work of the 
house. She did everything herself, and she 
made all Nellie’s and Rose’s frocks and coats 
and petticoats with her clever fingers and her 
sewing-machine. Yes, and their nighties too, 
and almost everything they wore. 

I must not say, though, that she had nobody 
155 


Everyday Stories 

to help her, for Nellie and Rose helped her; but 
I mean that she had no nurse or governess or 
servants of any kind. Once upon a time they 
had lived in a big house, and they had been rich. 
But now they were not rich, and their house was 
small. 

Nellie and Rose used to talk about this new 
home of theirs. 

“I am glad we are not rich now,” said Nellie 
one day. “I love living in this pretty little 
house ; it looks rather like a very big dolls’ house, 
I think.” 

“And I am glad too,” said Rose. “I like not 
having a nursery, and all living together like we 
do now — you and me and Mummy.” 

“And I like doing work,” said Nellie. “Pol- 
ishing the brass tray, and cleaning my own 
boots.” 

The next morning they both had as much work 
to do as ever they could wish for, for just before 
getting-up time their mother came into their bed- 
room and said : 

“I am afraid I must stay in bed to-day, for I 
do not feel well. If I go and get into bed again, 
do you think you can manage to see to breakfast, 
and do all the rest of the work too?” 

“Oh, yes, I am sure we can,” said Nellie. 

“Yes, yes, Mummy,” said Rose. “We can get 
breakfast very well indeed.” 

“You go back to bed this very minute, 
156 


Helping Mother 

Mummy, and you’ll see how soon we’ll be 
dressed,” said Nellie. 

There was no dawdling that morning, you may 
be sure. In a very short time both little girls 
were ready to go downstairs. They had made 
themselves nice and tidy, and brushed their hair 
so that it shone in the sunshine. 

“Mummy likes shiny hair,” said Nellie. 

“And straight partings,” said Rose. 

“Let us creep downstairs very softly,” said 
Nellie, “because p’r’aps poor Mummy’s head 
aches.” 

They went down on tiptoe, and hardly made a 
sound. The first thing they did was to open all 
the windows ; they had often heard Mummy do 
that before breakfast. Then Nellie filled the 
kettle with cold water and put it on the gas stove 
to boil. Rose wanted to strike the match to 
light the gas; but Nellie said: “No, Rose, you 
know Mummy wouldn’t like you to touch 
matches. I must do that.” 

“What am I to do, then?” asked Rose. 

“You can get a little tray ready, for we will 
take Mummy up a cup of tea. I don’t think she 
will want much breakfast this morning if she is 
not well, but she may like some tea.” 

Then Rose got the brass tray down from a 
shelf; it was the tray that Nellie was so fond of 
polishing. It shone like gold this morning. 

“Shall we put a cloth on it?” asked Rose. 

157 


Everyday Stories 

“No, don’t let’s,” said Nellie. “It looks so 
shiny and nice.” 

Rose put the prettiest cup and saucer she could 
find in the cupboard on to the tray. It was of 
white china with rosebuds on it. Then she put 
two lumps of sugar into a tiny sugar-bowl, which 
was also white, with pink rosebuds round it. 
Then she filled a tiny cream-jug with cream 
which she took off the top of the milk, and put it 
on the tray. She was a very careful little girl, 
and didn’t spill a drop of cream or milk. While 
she was getting the tray ready, Nellie was cutting 
a piece of bread and butter — just one little thin 
piece. 

“You go softly upstairs and ask Mummy if her 
feet are cold,” she said. “Tell her I will get her 
a hot-water bottle if she would like one.” 

So Rose crept upstairs very quietly, and 
knocked at her mother’s door. 

“Come in,” said her mother. 

“Are your feet cold, Mummy dear?” said 
Rose. 

“Well, yes, they are, rather.” 

“Nellie will get you a bottle full of hot water 
if you like, and then you can put your cold feet 
on it, and that will make them warm and comfy. 
There’s nothing like a hot-water bottle when you 
feel cold.” 

Rose remembered how when she had had 
measles, a few months ago, her mother had 
158 


Helping Mother 

brought her a hot-water bottle, and she knew 
how comfy it had been, 

“Yes, dear little old brownie,” said her 
mother, “I should like a hot bottle.” 

Rose loved being called a brownie, for she 
knew that brownies are a sort of fairies — kind 
fairies, who are always helping people. She 
began wondering what else she could do for her 
mother, as she stood by the bedside. 

“Does your head ache?” she asked. 

“Yes, it aches rather badly, dear.” 

“Then I will fetch you my bottle of scent.” 

She went to her bedroom and got a bottle of 
lavender water. It was a green bottle, and tied 
round it was a bit of pink ribbon. Inside the 
bottle was some very sweet scent. She took it to 
her mother’s room, and then she put some of the 
scent on to her finger and laid her finger on her 
mother’s forehead. She did this several times. 
Then she said : 

“Give me your hanky, Mummy, and I will put 
some scent on it.” 

When she had put some on, she stroked her 
mother’s head lightly with her cool little hand. 
Then she said : “Now I must go and tell Nellie 
about the hot bottle, and we will bring it up. 
And we will bring you some tea too, Mummy, 
and bread and butter.” 

Meanwhile, downstairs the kettle had boiled. 
Nellie knew when it was boiling, because the 
159 


Everyday Stories 

steam came out of the spout and out of the lid 
too. It boiled so fast that the lid jumped about. 
She first put a little boiling water into the small 
teapot (white china again, with rosebuds all 
round it) to make it hot. Mother always did 
that at tea-time. Then she poured the water out 
again and put two teaspoonfuls of tea into the 
pot — “one for Mummy and one for the pot/’ she 
said. Then she carried the little teapot very 
carefully and put it down on a tiny mat which 
she had put on the tray. 

“Now it will be ready for drinking in three 
minutes,” she said to Rose, who had just come 
downstairs again. “I have cut the bread and 
butter.” 

She put it on a plate (again white china with 
rosebuds on it) . 

“ Isn't this a pretty tea set?” said Rose. “It is 
like a dolls’ tea set.” 

“Yes, it is just meant for little extra cups of tea 
like this, for people who are not well,” said 
Nellie. “It isn’t big enough for proper break- 
fasts.” 

“Will Mummy have a hot bottle for her feet?” 
she asked. 

“Yes, she will, for her feet are cold and her 
head aches.” 

“Well, we will take her tea up and then we 
will see about the hot bottle,” said Nellie. 

So the two “brownies” went up. Rose went 

160 


Helping Mother 

first to open the door, and Nellie followed, carry- 
ing the tray. 

Their mother was so pleased with the tea. 
She smiled and thanked them, and then sat up 
in bed and began at once to pour out the tea. 

“/ am hungry now, aren’t you?” said Rose, as 
they went downstairs. 

“Yes, I am. We will get our breakfast ready, 
when we have done the hot-water bottle.” 

They filled a bottle made of india-rubber with 
very hot water, then screwed the stopper in very 
tightly, then put the bottle into a flannel bag, and 
Nellie took it up to her mother. 

After that they got their own breakfast ready. 
They laid the table very neatly, and put some 
roses in a vase, which they filled with clean 
water, and then placed it on the middle of the 
table. The roses were in bloom in the garden, 
for it was June, and Nellie had fetched some in 
to make their table look pretty. 

They had bread and mush for breakfast, and 
milk to drink. Nellie let Rose pour out the 
milk because she was fond of pouring out. Nel- 
lie was a very unselfish little girl. They were 
both quite hungry after their work, and ate a 
good deal. 

When it was over Rose cleared the meal away, 
while Nellie fetched her mother’s tray down- 
stairs. Then they washed up. Nellie washed, 
and Rose dried the things. They put the drying 

161 


Everyday Stories 

cloth outside in the sun when they had finished. 
No grown-up person could have done the wash- 
ing-up better; they left the sink so nice and clean, 
and put everything away into its proper place. 
You see they had so often helped Mummy that 
they knew how things ought to be done. And 
they liked to see everything looking clean and 
pretty. 

“Dirty things are horrid,” said Rose, as she 
carefully dried one of the cups. 

The next thing they did was to make their 
beds upstairs. Then they dusted their bedroom 
and the stairs and little sitting-room. Mummy 
said: 

“I think you had better not do any sweeping 
to-day.” 

After that Nellie polished up the handle and 
knocker on the front door, while Rose went to 
buy some potatoes. 

“What shall we have for dinner?” said Rose, 
when she came back from her shopping. 

“P’r’aps we had better ask Mummy that,” said 
Nellie. “You go up and ask. But don’t wake 
her if she is asleep.” 

Rose went up. Her mother was not asleep. 

“Mummy dear, what shall we have for dinner 
to-day? We can cook, you know.” 

“You are a very kind, useful pair of little 
brownies. I believe you would cook a very nice 
dinner; but there is some soup left from yester- 

162 


Helping Mother 

day’s dinner, which will only need making hot. 
We will have that, and some bread with it; and 
then bread and cheese instead of pudding to-day. 
And you and Nellie can have an apple each. 
Tell Nellie to come up and I will explain to 
her.” 

“I can tell her, Mummy, and then you needn’t 
explain ; you can go to sleep if you like.” 

“Very well, dear. You tell her.” 

So the brownies were soon busy about dinner. 
They found the soup in a jug, and they poured it 
into a saucepan, and made it hot on the gas stove. 

“You light the match,” said Rose, remember- 
ing what Nellie had said at breakfast-time. 

Nellie stood by the stove, giving the soup a stir 
every now and then with a big spoon, while Rose 
laid the table for dinner, and got the brass tray 
ready again for her mother. 

They all enjoyed their dinner very much, and 
Mummy said she felt so much better for her rest 
that she would get up in time for tea. They 
were very glad to hear that, for though they 
liked being so busy, they felt a little lonely all by 
themselves for several hours together. 

After washing up and making the kitchen look 
tidy, Nellie read a story to Rose out in the gar- 
den. Rose could not read very well yet — not 
quite well enough to enjoy reading a story to 
herself. 

After the story they played in the swing, and 

163 


Everyday Stories 

then it was time to see about tea, for they did 
not want Mummy to have any work to do that 
day. 

“What a lot of meals there are to get ready,” 
said Rose. “I don’t think I want to do so much 
work every day.” 

“And what a lot of washing up,” said Nellie. 
“I wonder if Mummy ever gets tired of working. 
She never says so, but p’r’aps she does. Let’s 
help her more, shall we?” 

“Yes, often and often,” said Rose. “But 
sometimes we will swing.” 

“Yes, sometimes,” answered Nellie. 


164 


Punch 


NCE upon a time there was a little dog 



called Punch. He was a fox-terrier — a 


very small one, and very active and 
lively. If he saw anything moving in the gar- 
den, such as a bird or a frog, he was after it in a 
moment. He had the dearest little face you ever 
saw, with such beautiful eyes. He was white, 
with one little bit of black on his body and one 
on his head. 

His master, John, a little boy of eight, loved 
him very much indeed. He had had him ever 
since he was a small puppy. John remembered 
the day when Punch could not get up the step 
leading to the front door; he had to be lifted; 
but now how different he was! 

“Yes, you had to be lifted up a small step once, 
you know,” said John to him one day. 

Punch wagged his tail as much as to say: “I 
suppose you are right, but it is hard to believe.” 

“I can remember the day you came,” said 
John, “and you can’t, can you?” 

Again Punch wagged his tail, and this time he 
meant, “No, certainly I can’t remember that.” 

“You don’t even know where you lived before 
you came to me, do you? And you don’t know 


Everyday Stories 

who gave you to me. And you don’t know that 
you were a birthday present, but you were.” 

Once more Punch wagged his tail. 

“I can make that tail wag whenever I want 
to,” said John, “just by speaking to you.” 

It was quite true. If you just looked at him 
and said “Punch,” his tail would begin wagging, 
or thumping the floor, if he happened to be lying 
down. I think he meant it for a smile, for he 
was such a loving little dog, and polite too. 

He was very fond of lying on the hearthrug 
in front of the fire. Sometimes he put his nose 
right on to the fender. But John’s father said 
the fire was not good for him, and so, whenever 
he went too near, John called, “Punch — chair,” 
and Punch knew quite well that he was to go 
under the big arm-chair. He did not like going 
there very much, and he used to creep there 
rather unwillingly with his tail between his legs. 

When John had dinner with his father and 
mother, Punch always waited till they had fin- 
ished their meat, or whatever it was they had 
first, and then he went to John’s mother, and 
stood up with his two front feet against her dress, 
and looked up in her face with such a pleading 
look. They knew what he meant. 

He meant: 

“It is time for me now. Please give me my 
dinner.” 

Then he had scraps of bone and vegetable and 

166 


Punch 

some dog biscuit on his own special plate, which 
had some pictures on it, and “Dog” written 
round the outside rim. He generally ate the 
bits of bone and vegetable first, and left the 
biscuit till last. 

At nights he slept on the rocking-chair in the 
kitchen, so that he was well out of the draughts. 
John went to bed at seven, but Punch went with 
the grown-ups about ten o’clock. He used to 
sleep most of the evening, though, under the 
arm-chair in the sitting-room, where the grown- 
ups sat reading. He was generally tired then, 
for in the afternoons he went out with John, and 
ran miles and miles. Over the hills and the 
fields he ran, in and out of hedges, smelling down 
rabbit holes, and examining everything he came 
across. There never was a more active little 
dog. 

Now I must tell you how he was lost one day, 
and how very sad John was, and his father and 
mother too. They all loved him so much; he 
was like one of the family. They talked to him 
just as if he were a person, and he seemed to un- 
derstand in a wonderful way. 

Well, one day John and his mother went to a 
town about four miles off to do some shopping. 
First they had to walk about a mile and a half 
to get to the trolley-cars. They took Punch with 
them because of the walk. When they reached 
the cars they lifted Punch in, and he sat on 

167 


Everyday Stories 

John’s knee; he didn’t much like cars, and al- 
ways went on them rather unwillingly. The 
noise and the shaking seemed to alarm him, for 
though he was very brave he was timid too, and 
easily frightened. 

He was delighted when they reached the town, 
and jumped quickly down from the step, and 
followed John and his mother. When the 
shopping was done, they went to a shop and 
had some ice cream and cake, and Punch sat 
on the floor near them, waiting for morsels of 
cake. 

Then they gathered up their parcels and set 
off for home. They had to walk a little way to 
get to their car again, and somehow Punch, stop- 
ping to look at something, missed them. They 
thought he was following them, but he was not. 
When they were going to get into the car they 
looked round for him, but he was nowhere to 
be seen ! Of course they could not get into that 
car, so they went back to the shop, looking every- 
where for him, and calling “Punch!” but no- 
where could they see him. They looked about 
the town for nearly an hour, and then they went 
to the house where policemen live, which is 
called the Police Station, and they said: 

“We have lost our little dog. He is a small 
fox-terrier and his name is Punch, and he is 
wearing a collar with his name printed on it, 
and our name too, and the name of our house. 

1 68 


Punch 

Will you write and let us know if you find him, 
please?” 

The policeman wrote something down in a 
book, and said he would do his best to find him. 

John and his mother felt very sad. They both 
felt as if they wanted to cry. They could not 
bear to think of dear little Punch being lost. 
They knew that he would be hunting everywhere 
for them, and that he would be miserable with- 
out them. But there was nothing more to be 
done, so they went sadly home. John’s father 
was very unhappy when they told him what had 
happened. He said he would go to the town 
next morning and see what could be done. 

John couldn’t help crying a little in bed; he 
thought of the rocking-chair in the kitchen and 
the old rug on it, and the cosy fire. There would 
be no little Punch there that night! It was rain- 
ing fast too, and the wind was cold. Oh, surely 
poor Punch wasn’t out of doors this wretched 
night! John did hope that somebody kind had 
found him and taken him indoors and given him 
some supper and a warm bed. 

“Oh, Punchie,” he cried, “do come back again! 
Oh, dor 

At last he went to sleep, and then ten o’clock 
came and his father and mother went to bed. 

“I am afraid he can’t possibly find his way 
home again,” said John’s mother, talking of 
Punch. “You see he has only once been to town 

169 


Everyday Stories 

before, and then he went in a cab, and by quite a 
different road, so he can't know the way; and in 
the car he sat on John’s knee, and couldn’t see 
out.” 

She lay awake for a long time that night 
thinking of poor Punch; but at last she fell 
asleep. She had been asleep about two hours 
when she woke up suddenly, and fancied she 
heard a dog barking outside in the garden. She 
sat up and listened. Yes, it was a dog. It was 
Punch, she felt sure! Oh, how glad she was! 
She woke John’s father, and they both went 
downstairs and hurriedly opened the front door, 
and there on the step was poor little Punch, wet 
through and shivering! 

They took him into the kitchen, where there 
was still a little bit of fire; they made it up, and 
soon there was a cheery blaze. They rubbed 
little Punch with a towel and got him dry, then 
they gave him a good supper and put him to bed 
in his rocking-chair, and wrapped his old rug 
round him, and he dropped off to sleep almost in 
a minute! He was tired out, poor little dog; 
but oh, how pleased to be at home again! All 
the time John’s father had been rubbing him 
dry he had been wagging his tired little tail, and 
had kept looking up with his pleading eyes, try- 
ing to say, “Oh, I am glad to be back!” 

John did not know till the morning that his 
dear little friend had come home. When his 


170 


Punch 


mother went in to tell him it was time to get up, 
she gave him the good news. 

“So the rocking-chair was not empty after 
all,” he said. 


Let's Pretend 

“W THAT shall we play at this after- 
V/^ noon?” said Sylvia, who sat in the 
swing, kicking her feet about, one 
fine summer afternoon. She spoke to her cousin 
Violet, who stood near her. 

Violet thought for a moment and then said: 
“Not dolls this afternoon, nor swinging, nor 
hide-and-seek.” 

“I know,” said Sylvia. “Let’s fetch the others 
out of the schoolroom, and pretend we’re ani- 
mals. We can each choose what we’ll be, but 
we’ll make them talk as they really would if they 
could speak.” 

“But how do you know what they would say?” 

“Oh, Violet, you always want to argue about 
everything! You know what sort of thing a dog 
might say. He would say, ‘I want a bone, 
please,’ and a cat would say, ‘I want some milk,’ 
and so on.” 

“All right, then; let’s fetch Walter and Mary 
out.” 

Walter and Mary were quite ready to come. 
Walter Lad just finished some painting he was 
doing, and Mary was doing nothing in particu- 
lar. 


172 


Let's Pretend 

“What will you be, Mary?” said Sylvia, when 
she had explained what the game was. 

“A dog,” said Mary at once. She loved dogs; 
and especially her own dog Beppo, a little black 
dog without a tail. 

“I knew you would say a dog,” said Sylvia. 

“And I know what Walter will be,” said 
Violet. 

“No, you don’t,” said Walter, “for I don’t 
know myself yet.” 

“Well, I can guess,” said Violet. 

“What, then?” he asked. 

“No, I sha’n’t say.” 

Sylvia was afraid they might be going to 
quarrel, for they did sometimes, and Sylvia hated 
quarrels. She was a great peacemaker. She 
said quarrels spoilt the fun of every game. And 
so they do. 

“Let’s all be something we like very much. 
Mary and her dog are all right, because she loves 
old Beppo.” 

“All right,” said Walter. “I will be Tim.” 
Tim was the pony which belonged to all four 
children. 

“That’s two settled,” said Sylvia. “Now 
Violet, you choose.” 

“I’ll be Fanny.” Fanny was the cat — a beau- 
tiful tabby with a bushy tail. 

Sylvia thought for a moment. She couldn’t 
quite make up her mind. She loved the old 

173 


Everyday Stories 

cart-horse dearly — Jack, his name was. He was 
such a patient, kind, hard-working old fellow. 

But then she loved the old sheep-dog too. 
Bren was his name. 

“I think I will be Jack,” she said. 

“Now let’s begin,” said Violet. “No one is 
to be herself or himself once . Everybody must 
be what they’ve chosen.” 

Beppo began. 

“I do wish my mistress wouldn’t take me out 
on the lead. I hate being tied to anything. I 
want to run after cats.” 

“You want to run after cats, do you?” said 
Fanny quickly, arching up her back. 

“Yes, cats are foolish things, and I won’t have 
them coming into our garden.” 

“But 7 am a cat, and you like me.” 

“Yes, you are all right — for a cat, I mean. 
You and I have been brought up together, and 
we know each other well, and are great chums.” 

Fanny (or Fan, as she was generally called) 
purred at this, and looked pleased. She ad- 
mired Beppo very much, though she often won- 
dered what had become of his tail. 

“Didn’t you ever have a tail?” she now asked 
him. 

“No, of course not,” he said, rather offended. 
“No dog in my family ever had one.” 

“Well, it is very funny. Other dogs have 
tails.” 


174 


Let's Pretend 

“It doesn’t matter what other dogs have,” he 
said. “We were talking about me.” He 
seemed rather grumpy this afternoon. 

“And, besides,” he added, “I have seen a cat 
without a tail.” 

“I know there are some,” said Fan. “The 
Manx family haven’t any, poor things.” Here 
she waved her own bushy tail about. She was 
very proud of it. She often heard people say: 
“What a fine cat! And what a tail!” 

“You two have talked enough; it is my turn,” 
said Tim. 

Beppo growled a little, and the others all 
looked at him. He really was grumpy to-day. 
Generally he was such a good-tempered dog. 

“I don’t think that little chap is very well,” 
said the old cart-horse. “He wants a powder.” 

“I feel better now,” said Beppo quickly. 

“Well, now, may I speak?” said the pony. 
But he did not wait for an answer. “I wish, 
when Violet rides on my back, she wouldn’t drag 
the reins so tight. Even little Mary holds them 
better.” 

Violet forgot for the moment that she was a 
cat, and said, “I don't drag the reins tight.” 

“I was not speaking about you, Fan, my dear,” 
said the pony. “Now I will go on, if nobody 
will interrupt. What I wanted to say was, I 
wish people who ride on my back (and one little 
girl especially) would not tug at the reins and 


Everyday Stories 

hurt my mouth. They wouldn’t like their 
mouths pulled about so hard.” 

“No, they wouldn’t,” said the old cart-horse. 

“And I wish,” went on the pony, “that the 
children would bring me more sugar; they used 
to bring me lots of nice lumps.” 

“That is greedy,” said the horse. 

“I wish nobody would pull my tail,” said Fan. 
“You can’t think how horrid it feels. Once, 
when Walter was young and foolish, he pulled it 
quite hard, and it did hurt. Of course he is 
more sensible now.” 

“I wish everybody could have as many bones 
as they liked,” said Beppo. “Nice meaty bones. 
And I wish people would let me lie on the sofa 
whenever I like, and never shut me up, and never 
give me a bath, and never take me to the sta- 
tion where the trains make such a noise, and most 
of all, as I have already said, I wish they would 
not take me out for a walk tied to their hand by 
a chain or bit of leather or string.” 

“I am afraid you must be naughty out of 
doors, or they wouldn’t tie you up like that,” 
said Fan. 

“I am afraid you are a self-indulgent little 
dog,” said Jack. 

“What long, hard words!” said Beppo. “I 
don’t know what they mean. I don’t like to be 
talked to in that way.” 

“I think you are a great talker,” said Fan. 

176 


Let's Pretend 

“What do you wish?” said the pony to the old 
cart-horse. 

“I wish people wouldn’t put quite such heavy 
loads of coal and things in my cart. It is such 
hard work pulling up the hills. And I wish 
they would always put a big stone close to the 
hind wheel to keep the cart from slipping back, 
when they give me a rest in the middle of a hill. 
Even on a little slope it would make such a dif- 
ference.” 

“Have you any other wishes?” said Fan. 

“Yes, I wish they would not draw my head in 
so, with those short reins ; I could pull much bet- 
ter and be so much more comfy if I had my 
head free.” 

“Anything else?” asked Tim. 

“Well, I think I have had my share of talk- 
ing; but I will just say this — I do like a pat and 
a kind word sometimes, don’t you — all of you?” 

“Yes,” said they all. 

“I haven’t had much of a say yet,” said the 
pony. 

“No, you haven’t,” said the cart-horse, who 
was always very fair. “What do you wish?” 

“Well, I haven’t much to complain of,” began 
the pony, when he was interrupted by Fan, who 
said: 

“Do use short words. ‘Complain’ is rather 
hard. It’s just as easy to use simple words and 
it’s so much more pleasant.” 

1 77 


Everyday Stories 

“I am afraid you haven’t much of a brain, 
Fan.” 

“Yes, I have,” said Fan. 

“Now, now,” said the old cart-horse, “no 
quarreling. Go on, Tim, my dear.” 

“Well, there is one person who rides on my 
back who wants me to be always cantering. She 
doesn’t seem to mind how much I get out of 
breath. I like a good canter myself sometimes, 
but you can’t always canter.” 

“I believe he means me again,” said Violet, 
forgetting that she was a cat. 

“The game is up,” said Sylvia. “It’s supper- 
time.” 

“Nobody forgot once to be the animal except 
Violet, and you forgot twice, Violet, didn’t 
you?” 

“Yes,” said Violet. She was quite ready to 
“own up,” for these children always “played 
fair.” 


178 


The Stepping-Stones 

M AGGIE and Ruth lived in a big city, 
but once a year they used to go and 
stay in the country. They went to a 
farmhouse, where they had real country eggs and 
butter and milk, and they used to watch the cows 
being milked, and look in the hens’ nests for the 
eggs, and ride on the horses’ backs, and do all 
sorts of other nice things which are only possible 
in the country. They were always sorry when 
their visit was ended and they had to go back 
to town. 

So you can imagine how delighted they were 
when one day their mother came into the nurs- 
ery and said : 

“I have something very nice to tell you.” 

“Oh, what? Tell us quick, Mummy, do!” 
said Maggie. 

“Quick, quick, Mummy!” said Ruth. 

“We are going to live in the country — in the 
real, beautiful country. What do you think of 
that?” 

“Oh, Mummy!” said both children at once. 
“Do you mean for always?” asked Maggie. 
“Yes, I mean we are to live there. I knew 
you two would be pleased. Won’t it be lovely? 

179 


Everyday Stories 

We shall be able to go out and gather primroses 
and violets in the spring, and we shall hear the 
cuckoo, and in the autumn we shall get black- 
berries. ’’ 

“I believe you are as pleased as me and Mag- 
gie, Mummy!” 

“Yes, I believe I am. But I must go down- 
stairs again now. I am going out.” 

The two little girls were left alone. 

“I wonder if it is the farmhouse we are go- 
ing to live in,” said Maggie. “I hope it is, 
don’t you?” 

“Yes, but I think Mummy would have said 
so. She just said ‘country.’ P’r’aps it’s another 
farmhouse.” 

“I hope there will be hens and cows and 
horses and all sorts of things, don’t you?” said 
Maggie. 

“Yes, and a see-saw like that at the farm.” 

“Oh, I wonder when we shall go. I cant 
wait long ! I hope Mummy won’t say ‘some day’ 
— that is always such a long time coming.” 

“I wish she hadn’t gone out now. I want 
to ask her — oh, ever so many things!” 

That night, when Mummy came to tuck them 
up in bed, she told them some more of the good 
news. 

“No, it is not that farmhouse that we are go- 
ing to,” she said. “But it is the real country all 
the same, and we are going to live in a house 

180 


The Stepping-Stones 

where there is a lovely garden. A river flows 
at the end of the garden, and there are stepping- 
stones in it.” 

“What are stepping-stones?” asked Ruth. 

“Ah!” said Mummy, “I won’t tell you that. 
It shall be a surprise for you. But when I was 
a little girl, Ruth, just about as old as you, I 
used to go and stay at this very house, and a little 
boy cousin lived there, and oh, how we loved the 
stepping-stones!” 

“Oh, what are they, Mummy? I can’t wait.” 

Ruth was very fond of saying, “I can’t wait.” 

“Yes, you must wait,” said Maggie. “It will 
be lovely fun having it a secret till we get there. 
I like secrets.” 

“There used to be a see-saw there, I remem- 
ber, and a swing, and a pony to ride.” 

“Oh, Mummy, what a scrumptious country!” 

“When are we going?” asked Maggie. 
“Don’t say ‘some day,’ Mummy. That is such 
a long time to wait.” 

“ ‘Some day’ isn’t always a long time to 
wait,” said her mother. “We are going next 
month.” 

“How many days?” said Ruth. 

“Let me see,” said Mother. Then she 
counted, and she found they had twenty days to 
wait. 

“Twenty — oh, what a lot! I can't wait.” 

“I think we shall have to leave you behind, 

181 


Everyday Stories 

Ruth, so that you can learn how to wait,” said 
Mummy, laughing. 

But Ruth knew that she didn’t mean it. 

After that the two children were always talk- 
ing about “the country.” 

“Let’s talk about when we go to live in the 
country,” one would say; or, “Let’s talk about go- 
ing to gather primroses”; or, “Let’s talk about 
each having a garden of our very own”; or, 
“Let’s talk about riding on the pony. I wonder 
if it is still there. And the see-saw — that can’t 
have gone away.” 

“I wonder what the stepping-stones are,” Ruth 
would often say. But she did not ask anybody, 
for she too now wished to keep it for a secret. 

At last the twenty days were over, and they 
set out for the country. Maggie and Ruth went 
to stay with an aunt while the furniture was be- 
ing moved, so it was really more than twenty 
days before they saw their new home. But the 
day did really come at last. 

It was late in the evening when they arrived, 
and they had to go straight to bed. 

“Where are the stepping-stones?” said Ruth, 
as Mummy once more came to tuck them up in 
bed. 

“You shall see in the morning,” said Mummy. 
“We will go out and see all sorts of lovely things 
then.” 

“Oh, I can’t wait till morning,” said Ruth. 

182 


The Stepping-Stones 

Mummy and Maggie both laughed at her, and 
she laughed at herself too. 

The little girls were tired after their long 
journey in the train, and soon they were both fast 
asleep. 

In the morning they were so excited about 
everything that they could hardly eat any break- 
fast. They wanted to see all over their new 
house, and the garden and everything all at 
once! 

“No, no,” said Mummy. “Wait a bit, dears. 
After breakfast you shall see.” 

So they had to sit patiently at the breakfast- 
table, and eat their oatmeal and their bread and 
honey. But when that was over, how they be- 
gan scampering about! They had had a good 
look at the nursery while they were having break- 
fast, so they ran out of the room directly they 
got down from the table. At least they were be- 
ginning to run out of the room, when Nurse said : 

“You can’t go with those sticky fingers. Wait 
a minute.” 

“Oh, Nurse, I cant wait any longer,” said 
Ruth. 

“Nonsense,” said Nurse. “You will go 
stickying everything you touch.” 

She made them go to the bathroom and wash 
their fingers, and then they really were free. 

“What shall we look at first?” cried Maggie, 
in great excitement. 


183 


Everyday Stories 

“Let’s see if Mummy can come and look too,” 
said Ruth. “It will be more fun.” 

They went downstairs, almost flying down in 
their hurry, and found Mummy just coming out 
of the dining-room. 

“Oh, Mummy, do come with us! Isn’t it all 
lovely?” 

“Yes, isn’t it?” said Mummy. 

They went first all over the house, and kept 
the garden till last. The house was large and 
old-fashioned, with funny little steps leading 
up and down on landings, and cupboards every- 
where. 

“A lovely hide-and-seek sort of house,” said 
Maggie. 

“Did you use to play hide-and-seek, Mummy, 
when you were a little girl?” asked Ruth. 

“Yes, we did indeed,” said Mummy. “Often 
and often when other children came to play with 
Chris and me we had hide-and-seek.” 

“Was Chris the little boy you told us about?” 

“Yes, he was my cousin.” 

On one landing there was a big window look- 
ing out on to the garden, and just under the win- 
dow a broad window-seat. 

“I used to sit here and read,” said Mummy. 
“I loved this seat.” 

“I shall sit here and read too,” said Ruth. 

When they had finished looking all over the 
house, they went into the garden. And such 

184 


The Stepping-Stones 

a garden it was! It was enough to delight aiy* 
child. There was a big, smooth green lawn 
with very soft, fine grass, and at one end of this 
lawn stood a large cedar-tree with spreading 
branches. 

“We used to have tea under this tree,” said 
Mummy. “I can remember so well spilling my 
cup of tea over my clean white frock here.” 

“Did you have to go in and change it?” asked 
Ruth. 

“Was anybody cross with you?” asked Mag- 
gie. 

“I don’t think so, but I can’t remember any- 
thing much except the spilling of the tea.” 

Ruth had for the moment forgotten about the 
stepping-stones. But only for a moment. 
“Mummy, Mummy, where are the stepping- 
stones?” she cried. 

“Let’s keep them till last,” said Maggie. 

“Poor little Ruth!” said Mummy, laughing. 

They went next to another part of the garden, 
all up and down, with little winding paths and 
lovely old-fashioned flowers ; and here they came 
upon another lawn, lying rather low. To get 
to this lawn you had to run down a steep grassy 
bank; you could get to it another way, by a little 
path, but of course Maggie and Ruth liked the 
hilly way best. It was great fun to join hands 
and run down as fast as ever they could, and 
laugh as they ran. 


Everyday Stories 

“Let’s roll down,” they said at last. And they 
did. 

“What fun we’ll have here, on this bank,” 
Maggie said. “Let’s call this our lawn, shall 
we?” 

“Yes, let’s,” said Ruth. 

When they had run up and down several 
times, and rolled down too, they suddenly saw, 
at one end of the lawn, a see-saw. 

“Oh, Mummy, look! Your see-saw!” cried 
Ruth. 

“It’s not the very same wood,” said Mummy, 
“but it’s just in the same spot.” 

“Did you and Chris see-saw here?” asked 
Maggie. 

“Yes, sometimes; but Chris didn’t care much 
for the see-saw. He liked the pony better.” 

“Let you and me get on,” said Ruth. 

“Oh, no, we won’t, though. We can come 
back to it. We must find the stepping-stones 
now.” 

Maggie was almost as anxious as Ruth to see 
the stepping-stones. 

“Where are they, Mummy?” she asked. 

“I will show you,” said Mummy. 

Then she led them to the very bottom of the 
garden, where the river was. 

They were almost too excited to speak now. 

A river! How lovely to have a river just at 
the bottom of the garden, where they could per- 

186 


The Stepping-Stones 

haps paddle and sail boats! And on the other 
side there was a field full of cowslips! Was 
there ever such a lovely day? 

“Cowslips, Ruth, look!” cried Maggie. “But 
how are we to get across into the field?” 

“Ah,” said Mummy. “How I wonder?” 

Then she pointed down to the water, and there, 
in the river, lay some big flat stones, big enough 
to stand upon, ten of them, stretching across the 
river, with a little space in between each stone, 
just all ready for little girls to walk upon! 

“Here are the stepping-stones at last,” said 
Mummy. “Shall we go and walk on them?” 

“Yes, yes!” cried both little girls at once. So 
they went down to the edge of the clear running 
water, and Mummy stepped on to the first stone 
and then held out her hand to Ruth. Ruth had 
to give a little jump to reach the first stone, for it 
wasn’t very near the bank. There was just room 
for her and Mummy to stand on the stone to- 
gether; but only just. They clung together, 
laughing and exclaiming. Then Mummy 
jumped on to the next big stone, and Maggie 
jumped on to Ruth’s, and they kept doing this 
till all had got across into the lovely cowslip 
field. It was nice not having the stones too near 
together; it made it more exciting to have to 
give a little jump. If any one had been stand- 
ing near the river, they would have heard a little 
scream of delight at each jump. 

187 


Everyday Stories 

The stepping-stones were really lovely. 

“We will often and often come here, won’t 
we, Maggie?” said Ruth. “I’m so glad you 
didn’t tell us what it was, Mummy. It was a 
scrumptious secret.” 


188 


“I Can’t Wait” 


Y OU heard in my last story how Ruth and 
Maggie went to live in their new home 
in the country. Every day there seemed 
to be fresh delights. There were the birds’ 
songs to listen to, the different kinds of flowers 
and leaves to notice, the picnics in the woods, 
and all sorts of other joys. 

One morning, when the summer was nearly 
over, and when the long days were beginning 
to grow a little shorter, Mummy went into the 
nursery and said: 

“Would you like to go blackberrying this 
afternoon?” 

“Oh, yes, yes, please,” said Ruth. “But 
couldn’t we go this morning, Mummy? It is 
a long time till this afternoon. I can’t wait.” 

“But I am afraid my little woman will have 
to wait,” said Mummy. “She is getting too 
big to be so impatient. She must learn to say 
‘I will wait,’ instead of T can’t wait.’ ” 

Ruth looked rather ashamed of herself. 

“All right, Mummy,” she said, hanging her 
head. 

“Will you try for three whole days to keep 
from saying T can’t wait’?” said Mummy. 

189 


Everyday Stories 

“Oh, Mummy, three whole days! I can’t re- 
member so long.” 

“Well, take one day at a time,” said Mummy. 
“Just for to-day. You can try, can’t you?” 

“No, I think I will try three days, Mummy. 
I’d rather.” 

“Very well, then. This is Monday — Mon- 
day, Tuesday, Wednesday.” 

“But I’ve said it once to-day. Let’s start to- 
morrow, may we?” 

“Very well — Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. 
Suppose Maggie helps you. Can you, Mag- 
gie?” 

“Yes, I know,” said Maggie. “We’ll get a 
bit of paper, and write Ruth’s name on it, and 
then put a little mark near, each time she says 
T can’t wait.’ Shall we, Ruth?” 

“Yes, let’s do that,” said Ruth. She quite 
liked the idea. It was almost like a game. So 
Maggie went to a little drawer where they kept 
scraps of paper and pencils, and she chose a 
piece of blue note-paper, and wrote on it: “To 
teach Ruth to be patient . September 14 th. A 
Plan thought of by Mummy, helped by Maggie, 
and to be carried out by Ruth.” 

“I’ve got the hardest part,” said Ruth. 

“Yes, you’ve got to do it,” said Maggie. “I’ll 
put the marks down when you say T can’t wait.’ ” 

“No, let me.” 

“No, I thought of it.” 

190 


“/ Can't Wait " 


“Well, it’s very unkind of you to give me all 
the nasty part, and you to have all the nice.” 

“No, it isn’t; it’s fair. I thought of it,” said 
Maggie. 

“You are unkind. I sha’n’t play at it now.” 
Ruth looked upon it quite as a kind of game by 
this time. 

“It isn’t a game ; it’s a bad habit you’ve got to 
conquer. And, besides, that bit of blue paper’s 
mine, and you sha’n’t touch it.” 

Ruth began to cry. It wasn’t often that she 
cried now, for she was seven, and she knew it 
was babyish to cry about little things, but she 
did cry now. 

“I sha’n’t try at all now,” she said, between 
her sobs. “I will say ‘I can’t wait.’ I’ll say it 
ever so many times.” 

Maggie sat down at the table and put a bad 
mark against Ruth’s name. 

“There’s one bad mark,” she said. And she 
seemed rather pleased. 

“I can’t wait. I can’t wait. I can’t wait,” 
said Ruth in a loud voice. 

“That’s three more bad marks,” said Maggie. 

“It isn’t, then, for we don’t begin till to- 
morrow.” 

At that moment Mummy came back into the 
nursery. 

She saw at once that something was wrong. 
She heard Ruth sobbing, and gasping for breath, 
191 


Everyday Stories 

and saw her red eyes. She saw, too, that Maggie 
looked uncomfortable. 

“What is the matter?” she asked. 

Both children began speaking at once, so that 
Mummy could not hear what either said. She 
put her hands up to her ears and said: “One at 
a time, please. You first, Maggie. What is 
the matter?” 

Ruth began to cry again, for Mummy’s voice 
sounded rather grave. 

“You must stop crying now, Ruth; I want to 
hear what Maggie has to say. You know we 
often call her your ‘other little Mummy,’ don’t 
we, when I am not with you, so she must speak 
first. Then I will hear you.” 

Then Maggie began to cry too. “Oh, 
Mummy,” she said, “I haven’t been like the 
‘other little Mummy’ this morning; I have been 
cross and horrid to Ruth — mummies are not 
horrid and cross.” 

“And I have been naughty too,” said Ruth, 
still gasping for breath. “I said I wouldn’t try 
— you know — about not waiting — but I will.” 

“Yes, I know you will, darling. Make a fresh 
start and begin again.” 

“And poor old Maggie,” she said, turning to 
the elder little girl. “Did you feel that you 
had been unkind?” 

“Yes,” said Maggie, in a low voice. 

“Well, I know how miserable that makes you 

192 


“/ Can't Wait ” 


feel ; it always does, dear. You can make a fresh 
start too, can’t you?” 

“I will tear up this bit of blue paper with the 
bad marks on, and start with another piece to- 
morrow. It wasn’t fair of me to begin to-day, 
for we did plan to begin to-morrow.” 

She got a fresh piece of paper from the 
drawer, and said: 

“ Would you like to write on it, Ruth? I’ll 
tell you the spelling.” 

“Yes, do let me,” said eager little Ruth. 

So she wrote in big letters: “To teuch me to 
be patient. September i^th. A Plan thought 
of by Mummy, helped by Maggie, and to be 
carried out by Ruth.” 

“And dont let’s quarrel over it,” said Maggie. 
“It makes us miserable.” 

“And it makes me miserable too,” said 
Mummy. 

They both looked at her, but did not quite 
know what to say. But they “made a plan,” as 
they called it, in their minds that they would 
try hard not to make Mummy miserable. That 
was worse than being miserable themselves. 

Then Mummy took Maggie into the garden, 
saying: 

“I want to speak to Maggie by herself for a 
minute, Ruth dear, and then to you. So just 
wait up here till I call you.” 

Ruth nodded her head. 

193 


Everyday Stories 

When Maggie and her mother were alone they 
had a little talk together. 

“I want you to help little Ruth to be patient,” 
said her mother. “And I think you will help 
her best by being kind and gentle to her. Will 
you try?” 

“Yes, Mummy, I will,” said Maggie. 

“Ruth makes me rather anxious sometimes,” 
went on Mummy. “She thinks too much about 
pleasing herself, and is in such a hurry to get 
her own way. You and I must try to help her. 
We must try to be very gentle and patient, then 
perhaps she will be so too.” 

“Wouldn’t bad marks help her more, 
Mummy?” 

“No, I think not,” said Mummy. “You can 
go on with that plan about marks, of course ; but 
patience and kindness are catching, you know, 
and one person catches them from another, like 
measles. So you see it is very important for 
you and me to be good, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, it is,” said Maggie. 

“Now you have had quite a long ledture, 
haven’t you?” said Mummy, patting Maggie on 
the head. “Go now and tell Ruth to come.” 

Ruth came out with a very grave face; but 
she had stopped crying, and her eyes were not 
quite so red now. 

Mummy took Ruth on her knee as she sat un- 
der the big cedar-tree on the lawn. 

194 


“/ Can't Wait ” 


(< Mummy is so pleased, darling, that you are 
going to learn to say ‘I will wait/ now. Shall 
we begin at once and say we won’t go black- 
berrying till to-morrow? That would be a hard 
bit of waiting, wouldn’t it?” 

Ruth didn’t quite know what to say. She 
wanted dreadfully to go and get blackberries, 
but she did want, too, to begin to be patient. 

“Would you like to go and see what Maggie 
thinks?” said Mummy. 

“Yes,” said Ruth. 

“Maggie,” said Ruth, when she was in the 
nursery again, “Mummy has thought of such a 
dreadful thing. She says should we wait till to- 
morrow to get blackberries!” 

“Oh, Ruth!” said Maggie. “Can you wait? 
I will wait if you will. Do let’s.” 

“All right,” said Ruth. “We will.” 

“Let’s go and tell Mummy,” said Maggie. 

They ran off together, and Ruth cried out: 
“Yes, Mummy, we will — we will wait till to- 
morrow.” 

They knew by Mummy’s face that she was 
glad, and somehow, although Ruth wanted, as 
she said, to go “dreadfully,” she felt glad too. 
So the morning, which began with quarreling, 
ended happily. 


195 


Blackberrying 

T O-DAY you are going to hear some more 
about Maggie and Ruth. 

When the children woke up the next 
morning they were very anxious to know if it 
was going to be a fine day. 

“Suppose it rains!” said Ruth, sitting up in 
bed. “Oh, I do hope it won’t! We must go 
and get blackberries this afternoon. I really 

can't ” She stopped herself just in time! 

You can guess what she was going to say. She 
put her hand quickly over her mouth and made 
such a funny face that they both laughed. 

“I shall pinch my lips hard if I say it,” she 
said. “Hard, so that it hurts — that will make 
me remember.” 

Maggie’s bed was quite near the window, so 
that she could draw back the curtain without 
getting out of bed. 

I must tell you about their bedroom before 
I go on with the story. It had two windows in 
it — they were casement windows, which means 
that they opened like a door opens, and not up 
and down. Near the windows hung such pretty 
curtains — short white ones with a flowery pat- 
tern all over the white. Maggie and Ruth had 

196 


Blackberr ying 

gone with their mother to buy the stuff of which 
the curtains were made. The flowery pattern 
was sweet-peas. They looked just like real ones. 
Maggie sometimes pretended they were real, 
and put her nose to them to smell the sweet 
scent. 

“They do smell lovely,” she said to Ruth. 
“Will you have one?” 

“Yes, please; one with a long stalk. Throw 
it across to my bed.” 

Many “pretending” games they had when they 
woke in the morning. They were not allowed 
to talk at night — not after Mummy had tucked 
them up. 

Their beds were white, their chest of drawers 
was white, their washing-stand was white, their 
two chairs were white, and their one little table 
was white. The little table had a cloth on it of 
the same stuff as the curtains. There was no 
wardrobe in the room, but there was a big cup- 
board in the wall near Ruth’s bed, and in it their 
frocks and coats hung on big nails. They had 
some pictures of their own on the walls ; one was 
The Good Shepherd , another was Jesus Christ 
with little children standing round Him, an- 
other was a colored picture called The Dolls 
Tea-Party , and another was a picture of a Christ- 
mas tree with lots of little lighted candles and 
other pretty things upon it. 

Altogether it was a very nice room for two 
197 


Everyday Stories 

little girls to have. Their mother liked them to 
keep it tidy. Maggie was neat in her ways, but 
Ruth often forgot, and in a hurry she sometimes 
threw her clothes anywhere — on the bed, or 
even sometimes on the floor. 

Well, on this particular morning Maggie drew 
back the curtain of the window which was near 
to her, and looked out. 

“A lovely day,” she said. “Just right for 
blackberrying.” 

After breakfast, when they were in the garden, 
they talked of what they were going to do. 

“We mustn’t take baskets for them, because 
the juice runs out and everything gets messy — 
squashy,” said Maggie. “Oh, yes, though, I 
know what we’ll do. We’ll put a plate inside 
the basket.” 

“Or we might take a jug,” said Ruth. 

“Or a tin can,” said Maggie. 

“I expect we shall have blackberry jam if we 
can find a lot. And blackberry pies,” said 
Ruth. 

After dinner there were great preparations. 
They were going to make a picnic of it. They 
helped Mummy get the tea-basket ready. They 
took two mugs for themselves and a cup . for 
Mummy, four lumps of sugar, some milk in a 
bottle, a little packet of tea, one teaspoon, a 
kettle, a box of matches, a newspaper, some bread 
and butter, some cake, and a teapot. 

198 


Blackberry ing 

“I hope we’ve remembered everything,” said 
Maggie. 

“We sha’n’t want knives, shall we, Mummy?” 

“No,” said Mummy. 

They took two enameled jugs for the black- 
berries, so that they had a good deal to carry al- 
together. Mummy said they had better take her 
old waterproof to sit on. 

“What about plates?” asked Ruth. 

“Oh, no,” said Maggie. “We’ve got quite 
enough to carry, and we can do without 
plates.” 

At last all was ready, and they set off. 

“It is a regular picnic, isn’t it, Mummy — not 
just getting blackberries?” 

“Yes, quite a picnic,” said Mummy. 

They walked for about a quarter of an hour, 
till they reached a spot where many blackberries 
grew. It was really a narrow green lane, with 
hedges on each side. There were lovely places 
for having tea in it too, and logs from trunks 
of trees on which they could sit. Ruth chose 
the particular spot for tea. 

They decided to put all their things down in 
this spot, except the enameled jugs, and these 
they wanted for the blackberries. 

“You and me share a jug, shall we, Mummy?” 
said Ruth. 

“Yes, we will share. You go to that hedge on 
the other side, Maggie, and we will stay on this 
199 


Everyday Stories 

side, then we sha’n’t get in each other’s way,” 
said Mummy. 

It was a splendid year for blackberries; there 
were so many of them, and they were large and 
juicy. 

“We may eat some, mayn’t we, Mummy?” 
asked Maggie. 

“Yes, we’ll all eat some, but not too many.” 

Then they set to work in earnest. It was such 
nice work. The only thing that wasn't nice was 
that they got their hands scratched sometimes 
by the thorns in the bushes. 

“Never mind a few scratches,” said Mummy. 

Their jugs were filling fast, and they were big 
jugs too. Mummy’s and Ruth’s, of course, was 
full first, because there were two of them. 

“I wish we had another jug,” said Ruth. 

“Oh, we’ll manage something after tea,” said 
Mummy. “These blackberries are not wet. I 
think we can carry some back in the tea-basket.” 

“Now our jug is quite full,” said Ruth. 

“Yes, let’s go and help Maggie to fill hers,” 
said Mummy. 

So they all three worked away till Maggie’s 
jug too was full. 

“Now, for the sticks and the fire!” cried Ruth. 
“I love making a fire.” 

They collected a fine lot of sticks, and made a 
fire in a sheltered corner with them and the 
paper. The sticks were so dry that the fire 
200 


Blackberrying 

crackled away, and the water was soon boiled. 
They often brought tea out like this in the sum- 
mer, so that they were quite clever at lighting 
a fire now. 

“You must have the wood dry,” said wise 
Maggie. 

After tea they worked away again, and by 
the time they had done they really had a splen- 
did lot of blackberries to take home. 

“There’s enough for jam, isn’t there, 
Mummy?” said Maggie. 

“Yes, for a few pots,” said Mummy. 

“Aren’t I glad we came?” said Ruth, clapping 
her hands with delight. 

They were rather tired when they reached 
their village again, but they all agreed that they 
had had a very happy afternoon. They were 
just going to turn into their garden gate when 
they met a poor woman from one of the houses 
in the village. She looked very pale and tired 
and Mummy stopped to speak to her. 

“Aren’t you well to-day?” she asked. 

“I’m not very well,” she said, “and William 
is ill.” (William was her husband.) 

She looked so sad and so pale that Maggie 
and Ruth felt quite unhappy. 

“Oh, do let’s give her our blackberries,” Ruth 
whispered. 

“Would you like some?” said Mummy. 

“They would make a nice pudding for the 

201 


Everyday Stories 

children,” said the woman, “but it’s a shame to 
take them.” 

“No, please do. Take this one jug, and when 
we’ve made a little jam you shall have some of 
that too. We can go and get some more black- 
berries. I daresay you haven’t much time to 
get them, have you?” 

“No, indeed I haven’t. Thank you kindly,” 
said the woman. 

Then Mummy and Maggie and Ruth went 
home. 

“I am glad we met her just then,” said Ruth. 

“Yes, weren’t we lucky?” said Maggie. “It 
reminds me of last Sunday’s text, Tt is more 
blessed to give than to receive.’ ” 

“Yes, and I know what that means,” said 
Ruth. “It means, ‘It’s better to give than to 
have.’ ” 


202 


The Magic Pocket 

T HERE was great excitement in the nurs- 
ery. Uncle Frank was coming to stay 
for a night, and Uncle Frank had a won- 
derful pocket in his overcoat which the children 
called the Magic Pocket. You will see why 
they gave it this name when you have heard what 
I am going to tell you. But first I must tell you 
who lived in the nursery. Christopher and Jack 
and Helen lived there. Christopher was six, 
Jack five, and Helen four. 

“What do you think Nurse says?” asked 
Christopher one morning. 

“What does she say?” asked Jack, in his slow 
little voice. 

“She says somebody is coming! Guess who?” 
Jack guessed four people, but the guesses were 
all wrong. 

({ You guess, Helen,” said Christopher. 

“No, I don’t like guessing; tell me,” said 
Helen. 

“Just one guess,” said Christopher, “and then 
I’ll tell you.” 

“I know!” cried Jack. “It’s Uncle Frank.” 
“Yes,” said Christopher. “Right.” 

“Is it to-day?” asked Helen. 

203 


Everyday Stories 

“Yes, just for one night.” 

“I wonder what there’ll be in his pocket this 
time,” said Jack. “I hope he will have the 
right coat on.” 

“Do you ’member once he didn’t?” said 
Helen. 

“That was a long time ago.” 

‘‘Not so long,” said Christopher. “Only 
about two or three months.” 

“Two months is a long time,” said Helen. 
“But not as long as two weeks.” 

“What are you saying?” said Christopher. 

Poor Helen never could understand about 
months and weeks and days. She thought they 
were very puzzling. 

“Well, anyway, I hope he’ll be wearing the 
right coat this time,” said Jack. 

The children could hardly talk about any- 
thing else all the morning. 

At last, about five o’clock they heard the front 
door bell ring. They knew they were always al- 
lowed to run down to the hall when it was Uncle 
Frank who was to come. So off they rushed, 
Christopher and Jack almost flying down in 
their hurry. But Helen’s little legs wouldn’t 
take her as fast. 

“Oh, wait for me!” she said. 

“Hurry up then,” said Christopher; he was 
in a dreadful hurry himself to get downstairs 
and to the front door. But at the bottom of 


204 


The Magic Pocket 

the stairs he waited, and Jack, who was half- 
way down, waited too. 

“Do be quick, Helen,” cried Christopher. 
“If he takes his overcoat off in the hall before we 
get to him, you know his other coat isn’t any 
use at all. It must be the top coat.” 

“I are being as kick as I can,” said Helen. 

“Don’t hurry her,” called out Nurse from the 
landing. “Her legs are not so long as yours, 
and Mabel hasn’t answered the door yet.” 
Mabel was the housemaid. 

They were all three in time — just in time, be- 
fore Mabel opened the front door and let Uncle 
Frank in. 

“Hello!” he called out. “How did you know 
it was I?” 

“We guessed,” said Christopher. 

“We knew you was coming,” said Helen, “and 
we guessed it was now.” 

“Well, you guessed right,” he said, and he 
swung Helen up on to his shoulder. 

“You all seem very glad to see me,” he said. 
“But I must go into the sitting-room and see 
Daddy and Mummy. Oh, but I must take my 
heavy coat off first, mustn’t I?” 

The children looked at each other. They 
were very much delighted. 

“One of my pockets feels rather funny,’-’ he 
said. 

“Is it the magic one?” asked Helen. 

205 


Everyday Stories 

“Well, I do believe it is,” he said. “It feels 
different from the other pockets, somehow.” 

“Oh, may we see?” cried Helen, feeling as if 
she couldn't wait any longer. 

“Come along,” he said. “Ladies first.” 

So Helen, being the only lady there, put her 
hand into the magic pocket, and felt some little 
parcels. There seemed to be several there. She 
could not make out what they were by the “feel” 
of them. Her little hand fumbled about in the 
pocket for a moment or two, and then she pulled 
out a parcel done up in white paper and tied 
with blue ribbon. The ribbon was tied in a nice 
little bow and not in a horrid knot, so she soon 
undid it, and inside the paper she found a sweet 
little doll — very tiny, and dressed in long 
clothes. 

“It is very young,” said Uncle. 

“It is yuvly, yuvly/' said Helen. She couldn’t 
say “lovely” yet. She said most words quite 
clearly now, but not “lovely.” 

Then Jack put his hand in. He wasn’t quite 
so long about it as Helen had been. He pulled 
out a little parcel, long and narrow. His also 
was a white paper one, but tied with pink ribbon. 
When he opened it, he found inside a box of 
dominoes. This was very funny; it was just the 
very thing he wanted. He didn’t know how to 
play dominoes yet, but he had seen some in a 
shop-window one day, when they had all been 

206 


The Magic Pocket 

out with Uncle Frank, and he remembered say- 
ing, “I should like those.” It was very funny 
that the Magic Pocket seemed to know just what 
he wanted. 

It was Christopher’s turn now. He pulled 
out a small, thin parcel. Again it was white 
paper, this time tied with green ribbon. It was 
a very nice penholder, with a pen at one end, and 
at the other there was a tiny round piece of glass, 
and when you put one eye up to it and shut the 
other, you could see a picture of a dog and a boy 
in it. It was wonderful; the round piece of 
glass was so small, and yet when you looked into 
it, there was quite a good-sized picture. They 
all three had a turn at looking in. 

Now it was Helen’s turn again. This time 
she brought out a small paint-box. She was 
really rather disappointed, because, she had a 
paint-box already; however, she was too polite 
to say so, and new things are always nice. But 
Uncle Frank said: “Wait a minute, the Little 
Magic Man, who lives at the bottom of this 
pocket and arranges these things, says he doesn’t 
want Helen to have that parcel. Would you 
mind putting it back, Helen, and taking an- 
other?” 

So Helen put it back, and pulled out another 
one. This was a very small parcel, of white 
paper again, and tied up this time with a silver 
cord. When she opened it she found inside a 

207 


Everyday Stories 

tiny wooden egg with a bright picture painted 
on it. The egg opened, and inside there was a 
smaller one, and it opened, and inside there was 
a smaller one still, and it opened, and inside 
there was a teeny-weeny one, and inside that was 
a thimble. Helen was pleased. Nothing could 
have been nicer. 

“Still some more things, I believe,” said 
Uncle Frank. “I can feel the Little Magic Man 
thumping at me inside the pocket; he always 
does if he wants us to feel again. Your turn, 
Jack.” 

Jack pulled out the paint-box. He had been 
wanting that too. So he was a very lucky boy. 

“Still he thumps,” said Uncle Frank. “Now, 
Christopher.” 

Christopher put in his hand. “I can’t feel the 
Little Magic Man,” he said. “Where is he?” 

“Ah!” said Uncle Frank, and he would say no 
more. 

“ Where is he?” said Helen. 

“If I told you,” said Uncle Frank, “he might 
never live there again.” 

Christopher’s parcel was tied with a gold cord. 
He untied it and found a small purse (a leather 
one just like his father’s, only smaller), and in- 
side that a bright new penny. 

Then the pocket was empty. 

“Is he thumping now?” asked Jack. 

“No,” said Uncle Frank, “he’s quiet now.” 

208 


The Story of Three Dolls 

O NCE upon a time there were three dolls 
who lived in a dolls’ house in a little 
girl’s nursery. The house had four 
rooms in it — two bedrooms and a sitting-room 
and a kitchen. Three of the rooms were fur- 
nished, but one bedroom had nothing in it at all, 
except a little bed and one chair. This nearly 
empty room was used as a hospital, and if any 
doll was ill she was put in there by the little girl 
to whom the dolls’ house belonged, and nursed 
till she was well. The names of the dolls were 
Christabel, Marjory, and Doris. Christabel 
was the biggest. She was a very nice doll, and 
pretty to look at, in spite of having some of her 
hair torn off on the left-hand side of her fore- 
head. It certainly did rather spoil her beauty; 
but still everybody liked her little face, for she 
had such a pleasant smile. It was Pussy who 
pulled off her hair. Pussy was only a kitten 
when she did it, and didn’t know any better. 

Marjory was a dark-haired doll with big, 
round black eyes. She always looked as if she 
was very much astonished about something; I 
think it was having such very round eyes which 
made her look like that. Sometimes Mary (the 

209 


Everyday Stories 

little girl to whom the dolls and dolls’ house be- 
longed) was quite cross with Marjory for look- 
ing so astonished about nothing. One day she 
said: “Don’t stare at me as if I had said some- 
thing extraordinary, Marjory; I only said it was 
a very fine day.” But that was rather unkind of 
Mary, for Marjory couldn’t help having such 
big eyes. 

Doris was a small doll with only one arm. 
She had been in the hospital-room a whole day 
once because of having only one arm. Mary 
thought if she lay very still in the hospital bed 
perhaps the arm would grow on again, but it 
didn’t. She had had two arms when she was 
new, and no one quite knew how she lost one; 
whether it was Pussy again who was the cause of 
the mischief I cannot say. Having only one 
arm is a little awkward, especially when it is the 
left one, which was the case with Doris. She 
had to get the other dolls to dress her. 

Mary had gone out, and she had left the three 
dolls in their little sitting-room. She had told 
them to be very good till she came back. “If you 
get very hungry before I come in, you may have 
tea,” she said. “You can get it ready, Christabel, 
as you are the eldest.” So as she had not come 
in at four o’clock, little Doris said: “I’m hun- 
gry; let’s have tea.” “Ask nicely,” said Chris- 
tabel. “Say: ‘If you please, may we have 
tea?’ ” Doris did as she was told, and then 
210 


The Story of Three Dolls 

Christabel got tea ready. She went to the 
kitchen and brought three cups and saucers, 
three little plates, three teaspoons, a teapot with 
tea in it, some milk, some bread and butter, jam, 
sugar, and a tiny slop-basin. She laid the tea- 
table very carefully, and then they sat down to 
tea. They began at once to eat their bread and 
butter. Marjory said: “Please, Christabel, 
may I have some jam on my bread and butter?” 
“Not yet,” said Christabel; “that is only your 
first piece. Whoever heard of a doll having 
jam with her first piece of bread and butter? 
No well-brought-up doll would think of asking 
for that.” 

Marjory looked most astonished at this re- 
mark, but said nothing. However, when she 
had had two pieces more, Christabel said she 
might have jam now. She helped herself to the 
jam, and put it on so thickly that Christabel was 
quite shocked at her greediness. 

Little Doris always had to have some help at 
tea; she could not manage to get on to her high 
chair quite by herself because of having only one 
arm, and one of the others generally spread her 
jam on the bread and butter for her. Still, on 
the whole, she managed very well. It was really 
wonderful how many things she did with her left 
hand. 

I told you just now that Marjory was greedy 
about the jam. Now, when dolls eat too much 
211 


Everyday Stories 

it generally makes them ill. I am sorry to say 
that Marjory, soon after tea, began to feel very 
sick. She looked pale and sat over the fire, lean- 
ing her head on her hand. She had not sat there 
long when she heard the nursery door open — not 
the dolls’ house door, but the nursery door which 
Mary used. Mary came in from her walk, took 
off her things, and went straight to the front door 
of the dolls’ house. She knocked at the door 
and Christabel said, “Come in.” Mary noticed 
at once that there was something wrong with 
Marjory. “What is the matter, Marjory?” she 
said. Poor Marjory felt so ashamed of herself 
and altogether so miserable that she burst out 
crying. “Come now,” said Mary, “don’t cry; 
tell me what is the matter.” Thereupon Mar- 
jory said: “It was the jam, I took too much, 
and I feel sick.” 

“Dear me,” said Mary, “I must put you in the 
hospital.” 

Then she undressed poor Marjory, and put 
her quickly into the hospital bed. “Now we 
must send for the doctor.” 

Presently Doctor Thomas came. I must ex- 
plain about Doctor Thomas. He was a doll 
dressed like a little man, who lived in a drawer 
where Mary kept her pocket-handkerchiefs, and 
he was only brought out when the other dolls 
were ill. He wore spectacles and looked very 
wise. He came in rubbing his hands together 
212 


The Story of Three Dolls 

and saying, “And which of the young ladies is 
it this time?” 

Then he felt Marjory’s pulse. After that he 
took a little thing out of his pocket, which looked 
something like a glass pencil, and he put this 
under Marjory’s little fat arm. “I must take 
her temperature,” he said. Marjory looked tre- 
mendously astonished at this proceeding. She 
stared at the doctor with her big round eyes, and 
wondered what he would do next. 

At last she said: “I can’t see how that little 
thing under my arm can take mv sick feeling 
away.” 

Doctor Thomas smiled, but he didn’t explain. 
Then he took the little thing out, looked at it 
and said: “A hundred and two degrees; very 
bad case, I fear. I will send some medicine 
to-night — one teaspoonful to be taken at a 
time.” 

Then the doctor took up his hat and got ready 
to go. 

“Keep her warm in bed,” he said to Mary, 
“and I will call again to-morrow.” 

Poor Marjory was very sick that night; but 
the next morning she was so much better that she 
was able to get up and sit by the fire. Mary 
quite forgot that Doctor Thomas had said, “Keep 
her warm in bed.” However, the doctor was 
not vexed. He said he was pleased to see his 
patient looking so much better, and that if it was 
213 


Everyday Stories 

very fine in the afternoon she might be taken out 
into the garden for a short time. 

When he had gone, Mary said: “And now, 
Marjory, let this illness be a lesson to you — don’t 
eat too much jam, or anything else, ever again.” 
And Marjory said she never would. 


/ 


214 


The Little Green Man 

O NCE upon a time there were some chil- 
dren who had got into very bad ways 
about behavior at meal-times. They 
put their elbows on the table, they kicked their 
feet about under the table, they helped them- 
selves to things without noticing if other people 
wanted anything, they talked about their food, 
and had many other troublesome little ways. 
They didn’t always do these things, of course, 
but rather often, I am afraid. They were not 
really bad children, but just thoughtless and 
careless. Their nurse was growing old, and she 
was a little deaf, and she could not see very well, 
so she did not always notice what the children 
were doing. 

But Mother noticed when she came into the 
nursery, and she felt troubled. She thought a 
good deal about manners, and the way children 
behaved at table, and she didn’t like her own 
children to be careless. 

“Oh, John!” she said, one day, coming into the 
nursery at tea-time. 

John had his mouth full of bread and butter — 
so full that if anybody had spoken to him he 
really couldn’t have answered clearly. He 

215 


Everyday Stories 

knew what she meant, and as soon as he could 
speak he said : 

“Sorry, Mummy, but I was so hungry/’ 

Joan was stooping dreadfully, and sitting “all 
in a lump.” Mabel’s plate was all over jam, the 
handle of her knife was sticky, and her hands 
were a sight to behold ! 

She wanted to give Mummy a hug, but 
Mummy stood back a little way and laughed, 
saying: “Oh, Mabel, I love your hugs; you 
know I do; but if you hug me now, what a state 
I shall be in! Give me two hugs to make up 
after tea, when you have washed your hands.” 

“Me will unsticky me’s self now, Mummy,” 
said Mabel, beginning to get down from her 
high chair. 

“Wait till Nurse has said grace.” 

When the tea things were cleared away, and 
the children made tidy, they came down to the 
sitting-room for an hour. They found a visitor 
there, much to their surprise, for Mummy had 
not said any one was coming. 

The visitor was their cousin Muriel. She was 
nearly grown up, and she was a great favorite 
with the three children. 

“What do you think is going to happen, 
John?” she said, when they had all shaken hands. 
“I don’t believe you can possibly guess.” 

“What?” said John. 

“Your nurse is going to leave, and I am going 

216 


The Tittle Green Man 

to look after you for a month, till Mummy gets a 
new nurse.” 

“Hurrah !” said John. 

“What fun!” said Joan. 

Mabel did not quite know what to say, though 
she was delighted like the other two, so she just 
stared solemnly at her cousin. 

“Are you quite grown up enough to look after 
us?” said John. 

Muriel laughed. 

“Well, I am pretty tall, am I not, and my hair 
is done up, like Mummy’s, isn’t it? So what do 
you think?” 

“I shouldn’t think you are as old as Mummy,” 
he said. 

“Zoo not as old as Nurse,” said Mabel. 

“Well, not quite,” said Muriel. 

“You are not too old to play, are you?” said 
Joan. 

“No; I love games. We’ll have jolly fun,” 
said Muriel. 

In a week’s time Nurse had gone, and Muriel 
had come in her place. 

Joan and Mabel helped her to unpack. She 
let them look in her little jewel-box, where she 
kept a few brooches and a bracelet and one or 
two other ornaments. 

They all got on very happily together, and the 
children were delighted to have her in the nurs- 
ery. But when the first meal-time came Muriel 

217 


Everyday Stories 

couldn’t help noticing at once how bad their 
manners were. 

“What a pity!” she thought. “I must see if I 
can make them better.” 

“You know, children,” she said, “Mummy is 
rather troubled about the way you behave at 
table, and I know you don’t want to trouble her, 
do you?” 

“No,” said John. 

“Let’s make up a game about it,” said Muriel. 

“Yes, let’s,” said Joan. “But what sort?” 

“Well, let’s play something that Mabel can 
join in,” said Muriel. (Mabel was only three.) 

“You make it up, and start it,” said John. 

“All right,” said Muriel. “We’ll pretend 
that a tiny little Green Man lives in that cup- 
board near the fireplace, a sort of gnome or elf ; 
not cruel, but rather strict. He is a nice little 
man, dressed all in green — green hat, green 
clothes, and green shoes and stockings. His hat 
is peaked, and the peak falls over on to one side. 
At meal-times he comes out of his cupboard, and 
he goes round to different nurseries to see how 
the children are behaving.” 

“And you too? Does he notice you?” said 
John. 

“Yes, me too.” 

“He has a set of little rules which he has 
printed himself in green letters, and they are all 
about manners. They are printed on a card, and 

218 


The Little Green Man 

when he comes out of the cupboard he always 
brings this card with him, hanging round his 
neck by a piece of green ribbon. The printed 
rules are always on the side turned outward, so 
that children can see them.” 

“And you too?” said Joan. 

“Yes, and me too.” 

“He seems very fond of green,” said John. 
“Why does he have everything green?” 

“I don’t know, but he does.” 

“What are the rules?” said Joan. 

“The first is: Sit up. The second: Eat 
with your mouth shut. The third : Pass things 
to others before helping yourself. The fourth: 
Keep your elbows in their proper place. The 
fifth: Dont get your jam all over everything.” 

The children laughed at this last rule. 

“As if any one would want to,” said John. 

“Well, Mabel seems to want to, sometimes,” 
said Muriel. “Don’t you, Mabel?” 

“Zes,” said Mabel. 

“Does he come out every meal-time?” asked 
Joan. 

“Yes, always; but sometimes he goes to one 
nursery and sometimes to another; he won’t al- 
ways come here.” 

“I hope he’ll come at tea-time, don’t you?” 
said Joan. “I wish it was tea-time now.” 

It soon was tea-time. The children were 
quite excited. 


219 


Everyday Stories 

“I wonder if he’ll come!” said Joan. 

“Me does hope he will,” said Mabel. 

“He will if you get sticky,” said John. “So 
you’d better look out.” 

Mabel looked half frightened, so Muriel said: 
“He’s a nice little man, you know. And of 
course he’s much more particular with boys of 
six than with little girls of three.” 

“He won’t catch me doing anything,” said 
John. 

“Well, I hope he won’t; but you had better 
be careful.” 

“What does he do to you if you sit ‘all in a 
lump,’ or make a lot of crumbs or anything?” 
asked Joan. 

“He puts you in his pocket for a little while. 
He has two pockets, one for children who are 
good, and one for children who forget. In the 
Good Pocket there are chocolates; but there is 
nothing in the Bad Pocket.” 

“Me specs me will go into the dood pottick,” 
said Mabel. 

“I hope so,” said Muriel. “But here he 
comes!” 

“Good afternoon, Little Green Man,” said 
Muriel. 

“Good afternoon, madam,” he said, bowing 
low. 

“I hope the dear children are well,” he said, 
looking at them. 


220 


The Little Green Man 

They all laughed, for he had such a funny 
voice. 

“I must look at their backs,” he said, “to see 
if they are straight.” 

The children all sat up as straight as little 
pokers. 

“Quite good,” he said. “I hope they will 
keep so.” He looked at Joan as he spoke. She 
was the one who stooped. 

“No sticky fingers, I hope,” he said. 

Mabel had not had any jam yet, so she held up 
her hands in great glee, exclaiming: “Me not 
’ticky a bit!” 

“Good child,” he said, and Mabel was de- 
lighted. 

“I think I will sit down a few minutes, if I 
may be allowed,” he said, in his funny voice. 
“There is a hole in one of my pockets, and I must 
mend it.” He took out a little case, and from 
the case he took a needle, all ready threaded 
with green cotton, and a small pair of scissors, 
and a thimble without a top, such as tailors 
use. 

“One of my pockets burst a little yesterday,” 
he said, “for it had many children in it. I went 
to a nursery where four children behaved so 
beautifully that they all had a ride in it.” 

“It must have been the Good Pocket,” whis- 
pered Joan. 

“I hope I don’t hear any whispering,” he said, 

221 


Everyday Stories 

putting his hand up to his ear, and leaning for- 
ward. 

Joan looked uncomfortable. 

“Excuse me, sir,” said Muriel, “but there is 
something just peeping out of your pocket, and 
I am afraid you may lose it.” 

“It is chocolate! ” cried Mabel. “Me can see 
tilver paper.” 

“Not quite so loud, if you please,” said the 
Little Green Man. 

Mabel looked uncomfortable now, and felt a 
little frightened. But the Little Green Man 
smiled at her, and said: “I think as this choco- 
late is peeping out, it wants to come quite out, so 
I will pull it through its little hole and Mabel 
shall have it. Would you like it, my dear?” 

“Zes,” said Mabel. “Say ‘please,’ ” said 
John, nudging her, and she hurriedly added, 
“p’ease.” 

“Here, then,” he said, handing her a round, 
fat chocolate cream. “I think you are a very 
nice little girl, and I can see which pocket you 
will generally go into.” 

“He’s awfully jolly, isn’t he?” said John; but 
Muriel and Joan hushed him up, as they thought 
the Little Green Man might not like to be talked 
about. 

Mabel ate her chocolate cream and made her 
mouth and fingers rather sticky and brown! 
But, fortunately, the Little Green Man was so 

222 


The Tittle Green Man 

busy mending his coat that he did not notice. 
He sat there so quietly that after a few minutes 
they forgot him just for a little while. John 
began talking about his new paint-box, and, for- 
getting all about his manners, he put a big piece 
of cake into his mouth and talked in a thick 
voice, not at all nice to hear. Then, too, he 
was scattering crumbs about wildly on the 
floor. 

Suddenly the Little Green Man got up from 
his seat and walked toward John and said: 
“That voice didn’t sound very nice. And, oh, 
dear me, what a lot of crumbs all round your 
chair!” 

John looked down, and there certainly was a 
mess. 

“Come into my pocket,” said the Little Green 
Man, lifting him in. John wasn’t exactly fright- 
ened, for really the Little Green Man was rather 
nice, and he wanted to know what it felt like to 
be in such a tiny pocket. 

“I’m afraid I’m too big to go in,” he began, 
as he was being lifted in. 

“Oh, no, I think not,” said the Little Green 
Man. 

And somehow, though the pocket was so tiny 
and John so big, he went in all right. It was 
a kind of magic pocket. They disappeared 
through the nursery door. Presently they re- 
turned, and the Little Green Man lifted John 

223 


Everyday Stories 

out again, and put him back in his chair. He 
then lifted Joan and Mabel up and put them in 
the Good Pocket. When they were settled down 
at the bottom, they could hardly believe it was a 
pocket, for it looked and felt like a bed of moss, 
and there were flowers growing — pinks and 
roses, smelling, oh, so sweet! And just in the 
corner were two chocolate creams wrapped up 
in silver paper, and over them was printed in 
green: “One for Joan and one for Mabel.” 

They took off the silver paper and ate them 
very carefully. They didn’t want to get sticky 
in this lovely place! 

“Isn’t it lovely, being here?” said Joan. 

“Zes, yuvly,” said Mabel. 

Then they seemed to be flying away on their 
bed of moss, and the scent of the flowers was 
sweeter than ever. It was a glorious ride. 
After a little while they found themselves back 
at the nursery table once more. 

After tea, when the Little Green Man had 
gone, they began talking about him. 

“What was your pocket like, John?” asked 
Joan. 

“Oh, just empty and stupid,” said John. 

“Did it hurt?” 

John shook his head. 

“No, there wasn’t anything to hurt. It was 
just empty, and I got tired of being there.” 

“Was you fikened?” asked Mabel. 

224 


The Tittle Green Man 

“No, there wasn’t anything to be frightened 
at,” said John. “What was yours like?” 

“Oh, ours was lovely ” said Joan. Then they 
told him all about the moss and the pinks and 
the roses, and the chocolates, and how they had 
flown away. 

“Where is the Little Man now, I wonder?” 
said Joan. “I never saw him go, did you?” 

“No,” said John. 

They looked all over the nursery for him, and 
even in the cupboard by the fire, where he came 
from ; but he was nowhere to be seen. 

“No, he is gone,” said Muriel. “I don’t think 
you’ll ever find him, even in the cupboard. He 
just comes and goes, suddenly. And I believe he 
lives somewhere in a little green house in the 
wood, though he does seem to come from the 
cupboard.” 

“Wouldn’t it be jolly to find his house in the 
wood,” said Joan, “and to go and see him, and 
knock at his little door and say: ‘Please, Little 
Green Man, we’ve come to call’?” 

“Zes!” said Mabel. 

“I shall take very good care about crumbs ' 
now,” said John. 

“And me too,” said Joan, “about stooping.” 

“And me ’bout ’ticky fingers,” said Mabel. 

The next morning, at lessons, John printed on 
a card in green letters the Little Green Man’s 
rules : 


225 


Everyday Stories 

1. Sit up. 

2. Eat with your mouth shut. 

3. Pass things to others before helping your- 

self. 

4. Keep your elbows in their proper place. 

5. Don’t get your jam all over everything. 

They made two holes in the card, and put nar- 
row green ribbon through; and then they ham- 
mered a small nail in the nursery wall, and hung 
the card up so that they could all see it. 

“The Little Green Man will be pleased when 
he sees it,” said Joan. 

“It’ll remind us,” said John, who was rather 
proud of his printing. 


226 


The Fairy Tree 

M URIEL was a great favorite in the 
nursery. She thought of new games, 
and liked playing them herself too, and 
she was good at telling stories. You will re- 
member, from the last story, that she was almost 
grown up, and that she had come to stay with her 
little cousins. On fine days they liked being out 
in the garden. 

“Out-of-doors is nicer than indoors,” said 
John; though they had great fun in the nursery 
too. 

They were all in the garden one afternoon. 
They were rather hot and tired after playing 
rounders, and Muriel said : “Come and rest for 
a little while.” 

So they came, and spread themselves out on a 
rug at her feet, as she sat and knitted. 

“Tell us a story, Muriel, do” said Joan. 

“Yes, do,” said John. “Something that Ma- 
bel can understand too,” he added. 

“All right,” said Muriel. “What sort 
shall we have — about children, or animals, or 
fairies?” 

The children thought for a moment. 

“You say first, Mabel,” said John. 

227 


Everyday Stories 

“About boys and girls,” said Mabel, “about as 
old as me.” 

“Wouldn’t you like a fairy in it, or a sort of 
fairy?” suggested Joan. 

“No, about a little girl,” said Mabel. 

“I know,” said Muriel. “It shall be about a 
little girl; but in the story I am thinking of, 
something wonderful happens to the little girl — 
it is half a sort of fairy tale, in fact. Will that 
do?” 

“Yes, that will do beautifully,” said Joan. 
“But what would you like, John?” 

“That will do for me,” said John. “Make it 
something like The Little Green Man ” 

“Well, we shall see,” said Muriel. “Settle 
yourselves down now, nice and comfy.” 

Then she began. 

“Once upon a time ” 

Here Mabel interrupted and said : “I do like 
stories to begin, ‘Once upon a time.’ ” 

“Keep quiet,” said John. “No one is to speak 
a word till the story is done; it spoils it.” 

“Well, I do / 9 said Mabel. 

“And so do I,” said Joan. 

“And so do I, too,” said John. “But now let’s 
be quiet, or Muriel won’t begin, will you, Moo?” 

“No,” said Muriel. 

Then she began again, and this was the story : 

Once upon a time there lived a little girl with 
blue eyes and golden hair, whose name was Cyn- 

228 


The Fairy Tree 

thia. She was seven years old. She lived near 
a wood, and sometimes, when all the grown-ups 
were busy, she wandered into the wood by her- 
self. She would have liked another child to go 
with her, but she had no brothers or sisters, and 
no friends who lived very near. One day she 
had some wonderful adventures. 

The grown-ups were all extra busy that day, 
so she went a little farther than usual into the 
wood — not very far, because she knew that 
Mummy did not like her to go far all alone. 

Well, she turned down a little path, and at the 
bottom of the path there was a tree. Such a big 
tree it was. Two or three could safely hide be- 
hind its thick trunk, if you played hide-and-seek 
there. It looked like an oak; but it was evi- 
dently not an ordinary oak, for when Cynthia 
got close to it she found a little door in the trunk 
with a knocker on it. This was very exciting! 

She thought to herself: “I wonder if I dare 
knock! I think I will.” So she raised the little 
knocker and let it fall back on the door. She 
waited anxiously for an answer, but nobody 
came. 

“I must try again,” she thought. “There 
must be somebody living here, or there wouldn’t 
be a door. Doors always lead somewhere.” 

She was just going to knock again when she 
noticed some words printed above the knocker. 
The words were, “KNOCK THREE TIMES.” She 

229 


Everyday Stories 

lifted the knocker again and let it fall, then a 
second time, and then a third. 

“That makes three knocks,” she said to herself. 
“I wonder who will come.” 

But she had not time to wonder long, for di- 
rectly the third knock sounded, the door opened 
by itself. On the mat just inside she saw some 
very big printed letters. They spelt the words, 
“WE ARE PLEASED TO SEE YOU.” 

“What a. nice house!” she thought. “I won- 
der if it will matter walking on the words. It 
seems rather rude to walk on such kind words, 
but I can’t help it — they spread all over the 
mat.” She stood with one foot on the edge of 
the mat, and then before she had time to decide 
what she had better do, she saw that something 
strange was happening. Little rose-bushes were 
growing up through the mat! As she watched 
them they grew slowly taller and taller. 

“Well, I have never seen things grow before; 
I have seen them when they are small and then 
when they are big, but I have not seen them get- 
ting bigger and bigger.” 

The roses smelt very sweet indeed, and there 
were no thorns at all on the stems. They were 
very wonderful flowers. 

“How nice to have no thorns!” she thought. 
“I think I will take some roses home to Mummy; 
but I must ask somebody first. I wonder who 
lives here.” 


230 


The Fairy Tree 

She did not feel at all frightened at finding 
herself alone in a strange house. 

“I must go into some rooms,” she said to her- 
self, “and then upstairs.” 

No sooner had she said this than she suddenly 
saw a whole row of little footmen before her. 
They were dressed in scarlet and white livery, 
and they were all bowing low. 

She did not quite know what to do or say. 

“At any rate, I must be polite,” she thought. 
So she bowed too, and said, “Good morning.” 

The footmen bowed again at this, but said 
nothing; they turned and walked away through 
a little door, one behind another. Cynthia 
counted them, and there were eight. 

When she was left alone she looked round her, 
and noticed a little bell on a table. 

“It is very funny how things keep appearing 
suddenly,” she thought. “I may as well ring the 
bell, I think.” 

She rang it, and at once one of the little foot- 
men appeared. He bowed low as before. 

“Please may I see the rooms of this house?” 
she asked him. 

‘‘•Certainly, madam,” he said, bowing again. 

“He is polite,” thought Cynthia, bowing too. 

She followed the footman toward a little door. 

“It is a very grand house,” she thought. “I 
didn’t know that anybody had eight footmen. 
Perhaps a King and Queen live here.” 

231 


Everyday Stories 

The footman showed her into a little room just 
opposite the front door. Everything was little 
here. There were a great many roses in the 
room. Little blue chairs stood against the walls, 
and round the table. “I think this must be the 
dining-room,” she thought. “It is a very pretty 
one.” 

There was no carpet on the floor, but the 
wooden floor was polished, and at one end of the 
room it was very shiny and slippery indeed, and 
a printed card hanging up on the wall close by 
said, “A SLIDE FOR GOOD BOYS AND GIRLS.” 

Here was fun! Cynthia began sliding at 
once “It is as good as ice,” she said to herself. 

She was not very good at sliding. She always 
gave a sort of little jump first, and put her left 
foot in ‘front. But she much enjoyed it. 

“This would be a very good idea for my 
nursery at home,” she thought. “I must tell 
Mummy about it. 

“But what I want to know still is, Who lives 
here? I will go into another room now. I 
don’t think I will ring for the little footman this 
time. I would rather go by myself.” 

Leaving the dining-room, she noticed another 
door not far away. To her great delight, she 
thought she heard voices. 

“There is some one in the drawing-room, I do 
believe,” she thought. “Perhaps I had better 
knock at the door.” 


232 


The Fairy Tree 

She knocked. A very pretty little voice said : 
“Come in!” 

Cynthia felt very excited now. Was she really 
to see fairies at last? 

Yes, she really was! 

She opened the door softly, and went in ; and 
there, in the drawing-room, with windows open- 
ing on to a lawn, were four of the loveliest fairies 
you ever saw or heard about! They were small, 
and beautifully dressed in silver and white, and 
they each had a wreath of flowers on their tiny 
heads. Their dresses were made of such light 
stuff — like a sort of beautiful cobweb in the gar- 
den with the sun shining on it. They were 
dancing when Cynthia went in — a very graceful 
dance it was, and every now and then they raised 
themselves quite easily from the ground (just a 
little way) and went on with the dance in the 
air. There was music for them to dance to; but 
Cynthia could not see where it came from. It 
stopped as soon as the dance was over. She did 
not quite like to speak to the fairies; somehow 
they looked so lovely and light, she was afraid 
her voice would sound too loud and rough. 
They did not seem to see her, and they did not 
speak while she was in the room. When the 
dance was over, they all took out little fans and 
began fanning themselves in time to the music, 
which began again. They did not look as if they 
needed the fans, for they were not hot; but Cyn- 

233 


Everyday Stories 

thia was glad they had them, for they were so 
pretty. They were made of something very 
light, and they shone and glistened in the sun. 

“Well,” said Cynthia to herself, “I always 
thought fairies were lovely, but I never imag- 
ined they could be as lovely as this!” 

As she was thinking this the fairies half ran 
and half flew into the garden, through the open 
windows. She ran to the window to see which 
way they had gone, but they had quite disap- 
peared. 

“I didn’t know this house had a garden,” she 
said. “It is altogether a magic place. The lit- 
tle footmen are their servants, I expect.” 

She then looked round the room. 

“No slides here,” she thought. “But oh, what 
a lovely carpet! Made of moss too! And flow- 
ers growing all over it!” 

Little chairs were placed about the room — 
sweet little chairs made of buttercups and 
daisies. “How I should love to sit in one,” 
thought Cynthia. “But I am too big and too 
heavy; I should crush the flowers.” 

She then left the room, and went up a small 
staircase. On the landing she noticed four little 
doors. She knocked at one of them, but no one 
answered, so she opened it and peeped in. 
There was a tiny bed in it, made of moss and 
rose petals, and the chest of drawers was made 
of lupins. The chairs too were made of flowers. 

234 


The Fairy Tree 

In one corner was a little bath and washing- 
stand made of glass. Cynthia had never seen 
such a lovely bedroom. 

“Fancy sleeping here always!” she thought. 

She peeped into the other bedrooms, and she 
saw that they were all exactly alike. Then she 
noticed another door. “I am sure that wasn’t 
here before,” she said to herself. “How things 
do keep coming and going here!” 

Just over this door was written, “THE FOOT- 
MEN’S APARTMENTS.” 

Cynthia spelt the last word over carefully. It 
was rather hard for her, for she was only seven. 
“What a long word!” she thought. “I suppose 
it means rooms” 

She thought she had better not go in there, so 
she turned and walked downstairs again. 

And then she suddenly found herself in the 
real world once more — in the wood, close to the 
big oak-tree, and the door in the trunk had van- 
ished. 


235 


The Primroses 

O NCE upon a time a lovely little primrose 
in a wood began talking to her sister 
primroses. She did not, of course, use 
our words to speak with; she used the Primrose 
language, and if you and I had been walking in 
the wood that afternoon I do not think we should 
have heard her. 

She was pale yellow in color, and she had five 
petals, and she grew on a delicate slender stalk, 
and had such pretty green leaves, which grew up 
tall and strong beside her. She called the leaves 
her little brothers, and she said they were there 
to take care of her. 

It was the month of April when my story 
begins. 

The primrose said: 

“Here is spring come again. I love my mossy 
bank. It is my home. I love to hear the cuckoo 
singing too. And I like to look up — up, ever so 
high above my head — at the blue sky and the 
little fleecy clouds.” 

She was a happy little primrose. 

“Do you think we are of any use in the 
world?” said one of her sisters. 

“I think we must be, or God would not have 

236 


The Primroses 

made us,” she said. “Perhaps we make people 
happy.” 

“And perhaps we make our wood look pretty,” 
said another primrose. 

Just then a rumbling sound was heard, as if 
wheels were passing over a stony path. The 
sound got nearer and nearer, and at last stopped 
close to the little group of primroses on their 
mossy bank. It came from a rolling-chair 
which was being pushed along by a nurse. In 
the chair, leaning back against cushions, lay a 
little boy. He was evidently ill, for his face was 
very white and thin. 

“Oh, I wish I could get out and run about!” 
he said. 

“Soon I think you may,” said the nurse, “but 
not yet.” 

“Oh, I wish I could!” he said sadly. 

But just at that moment he looked at the mossy 
bank, and he saw the primroses. 

Now Michael (for that was his name) loved 
flowers. 

“Nurse, Nurse!” he cried in delight, forget- 
ting all his sadness and his pain. “Oh, look, 
look! Primroses!” 

Nurse looked where he pointed. 

“Ah, how lovely!” said she. 

The little primroses smiled and looked at each 
other, but said nothing, for they only talked 
when nobody was near. 

237 


Everyday Stories 

“Do get me some, Nurse, please,” said Mi- 
chael. 

Nurse fixed the rolling-chair firmly on the 
path so that it should not slip, for the ground 
sloped a little. She put a stone at the back of 
one of the hind wheels. Then she climbed the 
bank and got some of the primroses, Michael 
watching her all the time. 

“Don’t get them all,” he cried. “They look 
so pretty there. Just a nice little bunch, and a 
few leaves too.” 

Nurse did as he asked her, and she gave him 
the flowers to carry home. He kept putting 
them gently to his face, and touching them 
softly. 

“Aren’t they lovely?” he said. “I am so glad 
we came this way this afternoon. We might 
have missed them.” 

A little color had come into his cheeks now, 
and the look of tiredness and pain had gone. 
When they reached home, Nurse lifted him 
gently out of his chair and put him on a sofa in 
the nursery. 

“May I have some water for them?” he asked. 
“And the prettiest vase you can find, Nurse?” 

Nurse brought him a beautiful little vase made 
of blue and white china, and he arranged the 
primroses carefully in it. One by one he put 
them in. 

“Drink some water,” he said to them. “You 

238 


The Primroses 

are hot and thirsty, I expect. Perhaps you don’t 
like being taken away from your wood. I hope 
you don’t mind. I’ll be very kind to you. I’ll 
put you in the window where you can see out, 
and I’ll give you fresh water every day.” 

Presently it was tea-time. Nurse carried Mi- 
chael downstairs to the dining-room for tea, and 
the primroses were left alone. As soon as he 
was gone they began talking to each other, in 
their own language again. 

One of them (the same one who had first 
spoken in the wood) said to the others: 

“Do you mind being brought away from our 
mossy bank like this?” 

“At first I thought I shouldn’t like it,” replied 
one, “but now I am pleased, for it makes the 
little boy happy to have us here.” 

“I don’t think he feels the pain in his bad leg 
so much when we are near him,” said another. 

“I am very glad to be here,” said a third one. 
“Now I know that we are of some use.” 

Before Michael went to bed that night he had 
to have his leg bandaged with clean bandages. 
This had to be done every day, and sometimes it 
hurt him. But to-night he said : 

“Put the primroses close to me, will you, 
Nurse, while you do my leg. Then it won’t hurt 
so much.” 

Nurse did so, and he hardly felt the pain. 
Soon after that he was safely tucked up in bed, 

239 


Everyday Stories 

but just before being lifted in he said his prayers 
as usual, and when he was thanking God for 
taking care of him through the day he added : 

“And please, God, I thank You for letting me 
find the primroses, and I thank you for making 
them so pretty.” 

The next morning he had them on the break- 
fast-table close to his plate, and all day long he 
had them by his side. True to his promise, when 
the afternoon came he gave them some fresh 
water; at least he got Nurse to do it for him, as 
he was not able to get up himself. Once again 
he said to them: “I do hope you are happy; I 
don’t want you to be miserable.” 

All this time the other primroses were still 
growing on the mossy bank. They talked about 
their sisters who had gone away. One said : 

“I wonder where they are now. I think the 
little boy loved us, so he will be kind to them.” 

“Hush!” said another. “Here are some chil- 
dren coming. I think they are coming home 
from school. How noisy they are! Some of 
them are rough too. I hope they won’t see us.” 

The children came nearer, and seeing the bank 
one of them called out: “Let’s roll down this 
bank.” 

“Oh, primroses!” said another, carelessly 
glancing at them. 

“Come along,” said another. 

Then the four children climbed up the bank, 

240 


The Primroses 

which was not a very steep one, and taking no 
notice of the lovely little primroses they lay 
down at the top of the bank and rolled over and 
over, down and down, till they reached the foot- 
path at the bottom. They found this great fun, 
and did it again and again. It was rather a jolly 
game, but oh, they might have chosen some other 
bank! 

After a time they had had enough of it, and 
they began to want their tea too, so they ran off. 

But the poor little primroses! Many were 
crushed, some had their stalks broken, and the 
pretty flowers were lying about all dirty and 
withered. Even the leaves, the little brothers 
who tried to take care of their sisters, were 
crushed and broken. It was a sad sight ! When 
the children had quite gone away, one primrose 
who had been a little distance from the others, 
and who was quietly crying, said : 

“How thoughtless! How rough! But I 
don’t think they meant to do us harm ; they didn’t 
think.” 

The next afternoon two little girls came to the 
mossy bank, with their nurse. Some of the 
primroses which had not been so badly crushed 
as the others had been able to pick themselves up 
a little, but some would never live again. A 
little way off there were a good many that the 
children had not touched. They were holding 
themselves up as beautifully as ever. 

241 


Everyday Stories 

“Oh, look!” cried one little girl. “Prim- 
roses! Let us get some.” 

They soon began scrambling on the bank ; but 
they were careful not to tread on the primroses. 
When they had each got a good bunch they set 
off home again. But they did not go straight 
home, for it was not quite tea-time, and they 
were generally out till then. Their nurse sat 
down on a seat in the wood to rest, and the little 
girls began to play. They played hide-and-seek, 
and then they had a shop, the elder child selling 
sweets (they pretended that little stones and 
leaves and twigs were the sweets) and the 
younger coming to buy. They had quite a long 
game, and at last it was time to go home really. 
The primroses had been lying on the ground all 
this time, feeling just a little unhappy, and wish- 
ing themselves back on their bank again. Nurse 
had walked on a little way in front, and called 
out: “Come along now; we are rather late.” 

The elder child said : “We mustn’t leave our 
primroses”; but the younger one answered: 
“Oh, I can’t bother about mine,” and there, on 
the ground, she left them! Poor little prim- 
roses — they felt sad and neglected, and oh, how 
they longed for home! 

When the children got in they met their 
mother in the hall. 

“Oh, what lovely primroses!” she said. 

“You may have them, Mummy,” said the little 

242 


The Primroses 

girl who had been carrying her bunch very care- 
fully. 

Mummy kissed her, and said: “Thank you, 
dear. They will make my writing-table look so 
pretty.” 

For a whole week the primroses stood in a vase 
of water on the writing-table, making all the 
room look beautiful, and they were glad to be 
there, for they noticed that when people saw 
them they smiled and looked happy. 

“Yes, I think we are of some use,” said one 
to another when they were alone in the room. 
“We make the wood beautiful, and we help peo- 
ple who are ill, like Michael, to forget their pain 
and tiredness, and we make houses look nice 
when we are put on writing-tables, and we make 
people smile. Smiles are good things. But, oh, 
I wish people wouldn’t trample on us and crush 
and break us, and I wish little girls would not 
take us away from our homes and then leave us 
to die by the roadside!” 

“Not many do that, I think,” said another. 
“Only a very careless and thoughtless child picks 
flowers and throws them away, or leaves them by 
the roadside.” 


243 










: 
























